


Against All Odds

by prowlish



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Charity Auctions, Episode Remix, Gen, M/M, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8250662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowlish/pseuds/prowlish
Summary: A little over a year later, after exploring and adventuring, the Enterprise and her young crew are given their first major political assignment. Which is fine, except Spock has a lot on the mind, Jim has a crush, and someone is hatching a plot under their noses... ("Journey to Babel" remix)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesewarmstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesewarmstars/gifts).



> So, here's a little story about this little story:
> 
> A million years ago, back when LJ was still Fandom Hub One, there were some charity auctions that went around for various causes. I only participated in a couple, but I enjoyed them. And I don't know what happened with my brain on this one, but I stumbled and I staggered, and through... god, at least five or six years? life threw all the punches it could at me. But I got through it (I'm getting through it) and I finally produced this, which I decided to got all out with given it's extreme, horrible, _terrible_ tardiness.
> 
> This fic was started before Into Darkness was even a whisper on the winds. As such, it only reflects the events in the 2009 movie. It's also the first "long fic" (by which I mean something over 10k words that involves multiple chapters) I've finished in 10 years. I am so excited about this fic, and so so nervous.
> 
> To Natalie: I hope the wait has been worth it.
> 
> (I thought I left longass fic summaries behind me on ff.net but this'll be the only one I promise)

**[one]**

  


This was a habit, and one she cherished. Uhura waited in the mess, early enough in the morning that the large room was mostly empty and quiet. Beating a Vulcan’s punctuality was a feat, but she managed. She wanted a leg up on Spock  _ somehow _ , and setting her alarm 20 minutes earlier was a quick and easy way. She was more than willing to put forward that kind of effort into maintaining their friendship.

  


Hard to believe it had been a year already. But it had been time well spent -- collecting herself after the break-up and building habits. Like breakfast with Spock every morning.

  


She felt closer to him, lately. Uhura could only count that as a success.

  


0700 on the dot. Uhura looked up and smiled. There was Spock, precisely on time. Today he was dressed to the toes in full formal attire, and she gave him a strange look -- until she remembered. “Oh.”

  


Spock tilted his head as he sat down, placing his tray carefully on the table. “Yes?”

  


Uhura chuckled. “I was wondering why you were all dressed up, but then I remembered.”

  


Spock nodded, arranging the implements on his tray. “New Vulcan is our last stop on the way to the Coridan system.”

  


Uhura hummed in agreement, watching as he added his preferred ingredients to the steaming bowl of broth before returning to her own plate -- simple this morning with eggs and toast. She wasn’t sure why she was looking for something weird in Spock’s behavior. Uhura had a sense about him, she always had, and it had been telling her for weeks that something was off.

  


But Spock had been nothing but… well. Spock. It was just that this had seemed to coincide with one of the transmissions between him and New Vulcan. They weren’t uncommon, but the change in demeanor was… even if it was a change only she could see. She could hardly mention “Spock seems weird” -- to most, that was like saying water was wet. Vulcans had been their first contact and yet still humans were not used to their ways.

  


Well. That was too much thought on a not-quite-full stomach. Uhura refrained mentioning anything to Spock himself; if something bothered him, he wouldn’t truly acknowledge it, let alone talk about it… and she felt a twinge of guilt for thinking about it so much anyway. Uhura tried to  make it a point not to notice what was outside her job parameters, but accidents happen.

  


She smiled at Spock once more, and asked, “Looking forward to seeing your father again?”

  


Spock appeared thoughtful as he sipped from his spoon. “I am,” he replied. “With even  _ more _ varieties of passionately emotional species on board, another Vulcan presence is most welcome.”

  


Uhura laughed as though this were some great joke. In a way, it was -- Spock’s way of saying he’d missed his father was distinctly Vulcan. She knew in some way, Spock would also find it comforting to be with someone mourning the same losses in the same way that he was.

  


That, of course, Spock would never mention. At one point, she might have tried to tease some acknowledgement out of him -- asked him directly, hadn’t he  _ missed _ his father? -- played word games, but…

  


A year had gotten them here, but Uhura didn’t want to push it. She just grinned at the look of polite confusion that he’d given at her laughter. “I look forward to seeing Sarek again, too,” she finally said. “How is it going down on New Vulcan, anyway?”

  


Spock was quiet again. Thoughtful. “The agriculture is progressing nicely, and the population seems to be settling in. Establishing settlements, routines… Sarek writes often and sends holo-images. What they’ve achieved in such little time is truly commendable.”

  


She could hear it loud and clear in his last remark. “But?” she prompted.

  


Spock’s gaze had gone distant, but now he focused on her again. He pursed his lips before continuing: “But… it is not home.”

  


Uhura’s smile was small and sad. “I know,” she said softly. “But one day it could be.”

  


“Perhaps,” Spock said, just as quietly. With a sigh, he squared his shoulders and moved aside his tray -- apparently that was all he could eat. “I should be on my way. I must meet the captain and Doctor McCoy to welcome my father on board.”

  


Uhura nodded. “Sure,” she said. The mess was starting to fill up, anyway, and spotting some representatives of the “passionately emotional” guests they were housing, she snorted. “114 delegates,” she remarked. “You think Kirk is up to this?”

  


The single look Spock gave her, one eyebrow arched in a familiar skeptical display, told her all she needed to know.

  


********

  


Jim Kirk heard an irritated huff behind him and smiled into his mirror. “Having trouble?” He glanced at his friend’s reflection.

  


McCoy scowled at him. “Yeah, I’m  _ having trouble _ ,” he groused. “How’re we supposed to  _ breathe _ with these collars stiff as Spock in a room full of children?”

  


Jim chuckled as he straightened his own dress uniform. The doctor would never let it die how awkward Spock had been around Joanna when she’d visited briefly -- but then, he took anyone not as in love with his daughter as he was as a personal affront. “Formal wear isn’t really meant to be comfy, Bones.”

  


“Yeah, well, I just wanna know why  _ I _ have to dress up.  _ You’re _ the one playing diplomat -- which, I might add, is a terrifying concept.”

  


“Because you’re my best friend in the whole wide universe and you won’t let me face all these dignitaries alone?” There was an ugly snorting sound and some muttering that sounded like some very unpalatable names for the captain. Jim laughed again, but he went for a different angle. “And c’mon, I haven’t been doing  _ that _ bad a job. No way they’d let me keep the  _ Enterprise _ if I was.”

  


“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” McCoy grumbled, this time just loud enough for Jim to hear.

  


“Whatever, Bones,” Jim replied, shaking his head. “Besides, Sarek and his crew are the last ones we’re picking up, so I don’t know why you’re whining so much.” After all, it hadn’t been Bones whose last encounter with the ambassador involved insulting his recently deceased wife to goad his son into attacking Jim so that he could take control of the ship. Yeah. Awkward. “C’mon, we should head out.” McCoy grunted and followed him, striding for the turbolift.

  


This was a reunion Jim  _ hadn’t _ been looking forward to -- but such was the job. He’d fumbled an apology to Spock once, sometime after their relationship had progressed past that rocky stage. (Any bickering they did now was usually just for the fun of it.) Spock had deflected it with some bid about logic and understanding what Jim had had to do. He’d also assured Jim that Vulcans didn’t hold grudges.

  


Jim wasn’t so sure on that point, but he appreciated the backhanded reassurance.

  


So sure, Spock had accepted his apology. Sort of. And now they were… well, friends. Jim wanted more -- but didn’t he always? They had a great working relationship, at least, and for that he was grateful. But Jim barely knew Sarek and he had no idea how to handle  _ that _ . Apologize and receive another trademark Vulcan deflection? Act natural and pretend it hadn’t happened? This was bad. He  _ really _ didn’t have the best track record with authority figures, especially stern father-figure types. There wasn’t even protocol for this! Do they even write protocol for this? It was a desperate, bizarre thought.

  


Maybe he should ask Spock what to do. Or would that be even more awkward?

  


If nothing else, Bones would be there to bail him out. Right? Jim glanced over at McCoy and decided against asking him anything about Sarek. Currently, the doctor was ornery as the Tellarites they’d welcomed aboard the previous morning, and Jim was sure that asking him anything about Vulcans was a sure ticket for more grumbling and growling. It didn’t help that the doctor was glaring at the poor ensigns and yeomans who dared greet him along the hall.

  


Jim sighed. This would be a long day, with the reception later. Why had they been chosen for such a delicate mission?

  


Right. Flagship of the Federation and all that jazz -- wouldn’t do to insult any delegates by not sending the finest ship to cart them around, even if any Federation starship was just as equipped for the mission.

  


All part of the job description, Jim reminded himself again. He tugged one last time on the hem of his shirt as they stepped in front of the lift. Spock joined them at the lift, a familiar warmth at his right, and Jim couldn’t resist a brief smile in his direction -- though he quickly reigned himself in before Bones could see. Even if he’d never confessed his blooming feelings about his first officer, Bones would tease him anyway. Payback for being such quick friends with Spock during the first year of their mission, Jim supposed. Bones-logic was not Vulcan-logic, but Jim could still predict it with more accuracy than Spock.

  


Another smile crossed his lips and Jim shook his head; he just couldn’t help it. From the corner of his eye, he saw Spock turn his head.

  


“Captain?”

  


Jim glanced at him. “Yes, Mr. Spock?”

  


“Are you well?”

  


“Of course,” Jim laughed. “Just thinking of the doctor’s difficulties with his dress uniform. By the way, you might want to give him a refresher on that Vulcan salute -- it wasn’t looking too hot, last I saw.”

  


And thus, McCoy’s sputtered outrage was muffled by the unstoppable force of Spock reinforcing Starfleet manners. Jim smiled to himself again as they stepped on the lift. Deflecting, learned from the best. And watching Spock’s careful patience imperceptibly crack as the charade went on was entertaining enough to distract Jim from his own nervousness.

  


Eventually, Spock dismissed McCoy with a remark that the doctor should avoid using the  _ ta’al _ at all and instead be as polite as he could manage. Jim laughed, but was again relieved of his friends’ attentions by the lift stopping.

  


Great. There went those nervous butterflies again.

  


Jim sighed, then drew himself up, shoulders level and back straight. He stepped through the open doors. “Company faces, boys! Last time, for this trip anyhow.” Jim noticed Spock discreetly watching him. Maybe his nervous energy  _ was _ showing. Damn. But there was nothing to do for it except continue down the hallway to greet Sarek and his entourage.

  


****

  


In the end, Jim had nothing more to fear than a bit of awkward small talk. Well -- awkward on his part, perhaps. He vaguely wondered if Vulcans were capable of being awkward because it unfairly did not seem so. They spoke of the particulars of the mission, and then the rest of the escort to Sarek’s guest suite was filled with Spock and his father catching up. Fine by Jim; he’d rather listen to the familial chatter than talk anymore about Coridan’s petition to join the Federation and the governments represented on the  _ Enterprise _ that were not so thrilled at the idea.

  


Jim smiled as they finally arrived, nodding his head at Sarek’s gracious thanks. “Thank  _ you _ for coming with us, ambassador. It’s a delicate climate.”

  


“So I gather,” Sarek replied. “Your hospitality is appreciated, captain.”

  


Jim merely lifted his hands disarmingly. “I’ll leave you to get settled,” he said. With another nod and exchange of pleasantries, Sarek withdrew into his room. Spock seemed to frown in thought after his father, but before Jim could dwell on that, he was distracted by Bones, who made a big show of undoing the collar of his dress uniform and sighing loudly.

  


“Well, kids, it’s time for this old country doc to get the hell out of this scratchy thing and back in the sickbay where I belong.”

  


Jim chuckled. “Go on, Bones, I’m sure your flock is lost without you.” He nudged McCoy’s shoulder.

  


The doctor grunted and scowled at him. “Shut up, Jim. And stay out of trouble.”

  


“I try!” Jim called at his retreating back. All he heard, in return, was a grumble that sounded something like  _ ‘not hard enough.’ _

  


Laughing again, Jim looked back at Spock, and found he was the subject of intense scrutiny. Again. It was enough to give him goosebumps. “You okay, Spock? Want me to leave you to catch up with Sarek more?”

  


Spock shook his head. “No, captain, our conversation just now was sufficient.”

  


Jim nodded, still smiling. “Understood.” Spock seemed to have a good relationship with his father. Must be nice, he thought. Shaking such thoughts away, Jim started down the hall again. Spock kept to his side, and Jim had the passing thought that Spock definitely belonged there.

  


Wow.  _ That _ was some kind of romantic bull. He really shouldn’t invent that kind of crap just because an older Spock from a different universe talked about what great, amazing, incomparable friends they had been. Because the key word there was  _ friends _ .

  


He was about to finally break the silence when Spock did that for him. “Captain.”

  


Jim glanced to his right. “Mr. Spock,” he replied, blue eyes glittering.

  


For some reason, there was an odd hesitation in the Vulcan, and he’d never known Spock to hesitate about anything. Then: “Why did Doctor McCoy say he wished to change out of his uniform? There is going to be another event for the delegates in a few hours which requires dress uniform, would it not be less work to simply remain in it?”

  


Even though Jim was certain this wasn’t what Spock had been  _ about _ to say, he laughed. “If Bones could run sickbay barefoot with a cool drink in one hand, he would.”

  


Spock raised his eyebrows, looking utterly mystified -- for a Vulcan. “I do not get your meaning, captain.”

  


“Everything is about comfort for that ‘old country doctor’,” Jim said, doing his best imitation of Bones’s drawl. Spock didn’t seem impressed. “He’d rather change twice than be uncomfortable in his own domain.”

  


“I still do not understand,” Spock replied, but with a tone of finality that said Jim would never be able to explain it; Jim often thought of it as his ‘silly humans’ voice.

  


They had paused outside of Jim’s quarters, and there was still that hesitancy that made him sure Spock hadn’t really asked what he’d wanted to. “...Was there something else, Spock?”

  


Dark eyes sought his again, and Jim let himself get absorbed in them, just for a moment. “Do you play chess, sir?”

  


Jim blinked.  _ That _ \-- wasn’t what he expected. (Not that he knew what he’d expected.) Still, he shrugged. “Yeah. Not much lately since Bones is a sore loser and won’t play me anymore, but I played a bit at school and the Academy.”

  


Spock nodded thoughtfully at this. “My mother taught me to play.”

  


He was quiet, almost hushed, at that. Talking about Amanda, even just in passing, had to be hard. But Jim figured he didn’t have to make this awkward by drawing attention to it; he recovered quickly and smiled. “Oh yeah?” he said. “I guess I thought Sarek would’ve taught you something like that.”

  


One angled eyebrow quirked, and for a moment there was a flicker in Spock’s dark eyes that he recognized from the other Spock -- a glint of amusement, gone so quick Jim might have imagined it. “As she was fond of pointing out to my father -- when they met -- and myself: chess is an Earth game.”

  


Jim grinned at that. “Well, at least you had a tutor. I just threw myself at it during school. It was probably the only productive thing I did back then.”

  


“I don’t doubt that you were skilled at the game, captain.”

  


It was Jim’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “You’ve never seen me play, Spock,” he said. “I could be terrible.”

  


Spock tilted his head. “Considering the amount of time you told me that you’ve played, I’d say not. You acquire those sorts of skills very quickly. With so much time to improve them, then, logically you would make for a formidable opponent.”

  


Jim’s grin turned almost sheepish as he leaned against the side of his door. “Is that so?”

  


“Yes, sir.”

  


“Quite a high opinion, there. I wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

  


Another curious tilt of Spock’s head. “No, sir -- it is simple observation and a logical deduction.” Before Jim could reply to that, he continued, “But I must excuse myself; it is time I move on to engineering to assist Mr Scott. We’ll be fine-tuning the replicators. With so many different races represented on board, we must strive for as much authenticity as possible.”

  


Jim nodded, smiling again. “Sounds like a plan, Spock. Good luck.”

  


Spock inclined his head, and with another farewell, he slipped off down the hall. Jim watched him, wondering if he walked or simply glided across the floor. Then he wondered where all the romance novel shit was coming from. Certainly not from the fact that Spock seemed to imply his parents had met by playing chess. Clearly he needed to go take a nap.

  


Hopeless.

  


****

  


By 1000 or so, she always felt hungry again. Uhura knew her body, and for the most part, it ran on as predictable a schedule as Spock did. It was a slow morning and she took her time nibbling on an apple, watching the lights of in-ship communication play over her consoles.

  


An apple on the bridge of the Enterprise. She smiled to herself. It had been years since the Kobayashi Maru and yet Uhura would not soon forget her run with Kirk. No one would -- it was already legendary at the Academy, or so she understood.

  


She hadn’t been able to stand him back then. Funny to think about, now. But several life-threatening crises had brought most of the crew much closer together.

  


Uhura smiled at the thought. Star-family. It was a phrase that popped into her head occasionally, though one she kept to herself. No need to betray the cool exterior.

  


A different light tracked across the external scan and she frowned. It was just on the edge… and then it was gone.

  


Uhura frowned. She was sure he’d seen… Chewing thoughtfully on the apple, she watched the screen closely. After ten minutes of watching it off and on, she was ready to give it up as a glitch or her imagination but then -- there it was again.

  


“Sulu…”

  


The man turned towards her, occupying the captain’s chair since both Kirk and Spock were absent. “Yes?”

  


Still frowning, she glanced over at him. “It… might be just a sensor ghost, but -- twice now I’ve seen a blip on the radar. Just at the edge of sensor range.”

  


Sulu looked thoughtful, but it was Cheko who spoke next: “I saw it, too.”

  


“Just now?”

  


Chekov nodded. “And before, as we approached New Vulcan… and when we were leaving orbit.”

  


The three of them shared a look.

  


“A tail?” Sulu said.

  


“Could be,” Chekov replied. “I say we -- oh! There it is again!”

  


Uhura spun back around to face her console. “It’s in hailing distance,” she reported.

  


“Try it.”

  


Already on it. “No response,” she reported.

  


Sulu frowned now. “Keep trying.”

  


“ -- it’s gone again,” Chekov said, muttering something Uhura knew was a terrible curse in Russian -- but she didn’t have time to translate it as she might normally, for entertainment.

  


Sulu hummed. “It could be nothing, but given our mission…” The bridge crew was silent in understanding. “Lieutenant, if the ship appears again, contact the captain and Mr. Spock.”

  
Uhura disposed of her apple’s core, turning to face her console. “Aye, aye.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait until tomorrow to post this but I'm too impatient, haha.

**[two]**

 

“Bridge to Captain Kirk. Bridge to Captain Kirk.”

 

The chirp-chirp of the in-ship communication was not exactly how Jim wanted to awake from his nap. Another chirp and he groaned, flinging an arm out to slap the built-in on his desk. “Cap’n here. Uhura, as much a joy as your voice is, I was _really_ enjoying that nap.”

 

“You’re needed on the bridge, sir.” The Lieutenant’s stunning professionalism didn’t once betray the _look_ he knew she had to be directing a her screen.

 

Jim sighed deeply. “Be there in five.” He slapped the comm-module again and huffed as he rolled out of bed. It took more than five minutes for him to pull a uniform shirt over his head and tame his sleep-tousled hair, but he made it quick enough.

 

Even after nearly two years, being greeted by “captain on the bridge!” never got old. Jim grinned but he made a beeline for Uhura’s station. Spock was already there -- damn, he was quick. Hadn’t he been in engineering? “So, what’s up?”

 

Spock peered over his shoulder while Uhura turned in her chair. “A radar blip, captain.”

 

Jim cocked an eyebrow. “Blip?”

 

Uhura sighed. “It’s been coming and going, but it looks like a ship when it shows. It’s tailing us.”

 

Jim hummed thoughtfully. “For how long?”

 

“Chekov said he first noticed it before our arrival at New Vulcan, sir.”

 

“But it isn’t a glitch.” That wasn’t quite a question, though he leaned in to get a closer look at the monitor himself.

 

“No,” Spock replied. “All sensors are performing optimally. Diagnostics appear clean. Mr Scott is double-checking the diagnostics, but I am confident the results will be the same.”

 

“And I am unable to hail it in any Federation language,” Uhura added.

 

“What about others?”

 

Uhura frowned at the screen with a little sigh. “I’ve tried Klingon and Romulan dialects. No response.”

 

Jim shared a look with Spock and straightened. His First Officer did the same. “If it is a ship, captain, it’s like none I’ve seen before. It clearly makes use of a cloaking device, as it only appears for a short time before disappearing again. I might theorize that a reflux period occurs in keeping the ship cloaked for such lengths of time, making it visible to our sensors every other hour.”

 

From behind them, Chekov and Sulu confirmed this assessment. Frowning, Jim shared another look with Spock and Uhura. “Well,” he said. “It’s weird all right, but I don’t think we should panic just yet.”

 

Spock nodded. “But perhaps cause for concern. It would be prudent to remain alert.”

 

“Of course,” Jim agreed, his hands falling to rest on his hips. “All eyes and ears open. Got it?”

 

“Aye, captain,” rang through the bridge. _That_ was nice, too, he decided. Jim nodded with another grin. “I’d stay and help keep an eye on the monitor, but duty calls elsewhere,” he said, and the regret in his voice was real; he was _not_ looking forward to the mixer for the delegates but of course his presence was required. In a freshly pressed dress uniform, too. He might not complain as loudly as Bones, but the things _were_ damn uncomfortable. Spock, he was amused to see, was still wearing his own dress uniform from that morning.

 

Spock inclined his head in a little nod. “I should leave as well. The replicators in the reception areas still need testing.”

 

“Very well! Sulu, you have the conn. Keep your eyes peeled. Let one of us know if anything changes.”

 

“Aye, sir.”

 

Jim nodded again, giving one more glance around his bridge as Sulu stepped back to the captain’s chair, before turning and walking in tandem with Spock back to the turbolift.

 

“We seem to be in for an eventful trip,” Spock remarked.

 

Jim shot a grin his way. “Aren’t we always?”

 

Spock considered him a moment. “Point taken.” It was such a human turn of phrase that the captain laughed. Spock tipped his head, bewildered. “Captain?”

 

But Jim just waved him off. “You picked up a few thing from Uhura, that’s all.”

 

Spock frowned in thought, but remained quiet as the lift traveled through level after level in the _Enterprise_. “I meant to ask you something else, earlier, but I was unsure if the time was appropriate.”

 

Jim stared over at him. “Go ahead, Spock, I won’t bite.”

 

Spock paused, clearly processing and disregarding the idiom. “In truth, I inquired about your chess playing in the hopes that we might perhaps play a match sometime.”

 

“Oh?” Jim was quiet for a minute, considering. Not that it was any question of if he wanted to spend any extra time with Spock, because the answer to that was _yes_. But as with the earlier chess conversation, he hadn’t expected it.

 

“There is no pressure in the offer, captain, I merely -- ”

 

“No, no,” Jim interrupted, waving a hand. “I’d like that, Spock. But I might not be a worthy opponent. I haven’t played much since the Academy.”

 

Spock lifted his gaze, his dark eyes almost gleaming. “I thought that it was determined earlier that you would be a formidable opponent.”

 

Jim laughed. “Alright, you’ve got me there. If you can forgive my rustiness, I’d be glad to play.” The turbolift stopped and Jim smiled brightly at him. “Well, this is my stop -- I’ll see you in a few,” he said, leaving a puzzled Spock behind in the lift, humming to himself as he strode down the hall to his quarters again. It was no time until he was there again, and he knew he should be clearing his head in order to deal with so many delegates and politics, but all Jim could think about was Spock.

 

Well, to be fair, all he _usually_ was able to think about was Spock, but it was rare to be _given_ a reason to sit and ponder his First Officer. Jim sighed as he pulled the standard gold uniform shirt back over his head and discarded it on the floor. Spock had suddenly latched onto this idea of chess games and playing matches in their free time, with the intensity that only a Vulcan could bring. Jim wasn’t one to say no to spending private time with Spock, but the fact that Spock was so intent on it out of the blue… that _was_ something to wonder about. As far as he could tell, Spock typically spent his off-duty hours with whatever solitary hobbies and experiments that entertained him, now that he and Uhura were no longer an item. But then, he wasn’t so sure that much of his off-time previously had been spent with her, and maybe that had been an issue. Jim couldn’t be sure; as much interest as he’d had in the both of them, it wasn’t his place to snoop.

 

But how was he supposed to approach this? Sure, he had a big crush on Spock, but he doubted _that_ was mutual. If he talked to Bones, the doc would just roll his eyes and grumble about green-blooded hobgoblins. Sure, if Jim persisted, he’d finally wring some advice out of his friend, but at what cost? Jim shook his head at the thought, buttoning his dress top. He guess he’d just have to --

 

His gaze landed on the built-in console on his desk and quickly had an answer. Of course -- there _was_ one expert on Spock that he could call. Jim grinned and plopped into his seat. He had a little time yet before he had to show face among the delegates.

 

In no time, he was connected with New Vulcan via subspace and soon had himself transferred over to one of the elder ambassadors. Spock’s lined features didn’t exactly _smile_ , but they definitely seemed to brighten. Jim did all the grinning for him.

 

“Jim,” he said, and if he’d thought all the acknowledgement he was now afforded on the bridge was nice, it was nothing compared to how the elder Spock’s voice warmed the very air with Jim’s name. He always felt like that warmth seeped through his skin and through his limbs, making him feel like a smitten schoolboy.

 

“Hey there, Mr Ambassador,” Jim said, blue eyes glittering. “I’m sure you know we picked Sarek up earlier today.”

 

Spock nodded. “I saw him off.”

 

“How goes the colony?”

 

“Quite well, Jim, thank you. The landscaping and terraforming is going well. It’s starting to smell like home.”

 

The thought made Jim smile, mind settling on memories of the flowers his mother would garden. “That’s great news,” he said.

 

“What’s the occasion, if I may ask? Sarek was quite vague,” Spock said, gently breaking the comfortable silence. Jim glanced down at his dress uniform and sighed.

 

“I understand why. It’s a lot. _Too_ much. But right now I’m dressed up because I need to play host to over 100 delegates who honestly want nothing more than to stab one another in the back.” He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, a grimace on his features.

 

A thoughtful hum from the screen. “You’ll do fine,” Spock reassured. Jim glanced up at him, a frown tugging at his lips.

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“You were always a great host. You handled even the most difficult of situations with ease.” This too was spoken with warmth and fondness far beyond usual Vulcan ‘expression.’

 

Jim smiled but looked away; he highly doubted he truly lived up to the James Kirk _this_ Spock had known. He’d been doing well… so far. With Bones’ and Spock’s help. He still felt like he was waiting on the other shoe to drop.

 

“Now,” the elder said, catching Jim’s attention once more. “Tell me what is _really_ on your mind.”

 

Taken aback, Jim gawked at the screen. It was unsettling, sometimes, the ease with which this Spock could read him. And not for the first time, he wondered just what the extent of the relationship between his predecessor and this Spock had been… but that was probably just more wishful thinking towards his own Spock. And suddenly he was regretting just calling the elder up on impulse, but -- here he was.

 

Still, he smiled sheepishly, even as he sighed and sat back in his chair. “You,” he said, grinning in his teasing way. “Rather, your counterpart here.”

 

Something in Spock’s eyes gleamed. “I presumed.” Jim laughed at that. “What about him is troubling you?”

 

Jim sighed, considering how to word it. “It’s… not even something major. He’s just… acting a little different.” Spock merely nodded when Jim paused, indicating that he should continue, but Jim kept silent for another moment, feeling foolish. This was ridiculous! Why had he called? “He’s -- suddenly interested in my personal life. Sorta. And chess. And… this is stupid, I shouldn’t have bothered you,” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

 

“Jim.” The tone of voice made Jim uncover his face and look back at the screen. “Did I give any caveats when I said you could call me about anything?”

 

Jim picked at a stray thread in his uniform shirt. “No,” he replied quietly.

 

“Then please, do not demean your topic of conversation. As you said, these things aren’t dramatic, but I imagine they are different _enough_.”

 

Jim couldn’t deny that, considering how rigid Spock was about most of his routine.

 

“It sound like he is trying to find common ground,” Spock supplied. “Something to connect with.”

 

“Connect?” Jim repeated.

 

“Yes, Jim. It seems like he wants to foster a closer friendship. If you are open to that.”

 

“Oh yeah, yeah -- definitely!” Jim said, putting a bright smile on his lips. He wanted much more than that, but it was fantastic enough that Spock wanted to be closer. They had an excellent working relationship now, and could probably call each other ‘friend’ in passing, but… Jim let out a soft chuckle. “I guess I’ve still been too cautious. Our first meetings were full of terrible impressions… He told me ‘Vulcans don’t hold grudges’ but I wasn’t sure how to take _that_.” His smile became more genuine as he saw Spock’s dark eyes glitter. Sighing, Jim scooted to the edge of his chair. “Thanks. For your insight, and for taking such an inane call… I’d stay on longer, but -- ”

 

“Not at all, Jim. We _are_ friends, after all.”

 

Jim grinned, feeling that warmth in his chest again. “Yeah,” he said. “But duty calls, unfortunately.”

 

Spock nodded. “Of course. Good luck, Jim. I shall call later when there is more time. Perhaps you can finally tell me about this delicate political situation you’re in the midst of.”

 

Jim nodded, murmuring an affirmative and a farewell before cutting the connection. He remained seated for a long moment, reveling in the relief and happiness bubbling through him, before he finally stood and headed from his quarters to go to the mixer.


	3. Chapter 3

**[three]**

 

Leonard McCoy sighed. Once again, he was not sure  _ why _ he was here. A party of delegates didn’t exactly call for a doctor’s presence. But he glanced over and saw Jim Kirk down half a glass of  _ something _ and sighed again. Right. Moral support. That was why he’d donned this stiff, scratchy uniform again. Because he was such a damned good friend. Len wondered if medals of valor were awarded for enduring things like this.

 

Somehow, spotting Sarek gave him some relief. Len wasn’t the best around Vulcans, and seeking out  _ Spock’s _ father seemed… ironic. But the devil -- or diplomat -- you know, right? Jim was occupied with an Andorian representative, and Sarek was -- Len squinted. He was holding something the doctor vaguely recognized but couldn’t place. Well. At least he had a conversation opener --

 

Except a Tellarite beat him there. Len made a face and hung back; better to le the piggish little creature go first. They were more testy and bullheaded than Doc McCoy himself, last he checked. Instead, he moved aside to refill his drink, listening idly for his own chance to approach Sarek. Or maybe Jim would be free and he’d just move on. But that slim tube Sarek had held bugged him. When he glanced back over at Sarek and the Tellarite delegate he found the object had vanished from the Vulcan’s hand. Odd. Len frowned.

 

“The vote will not be taken here, Gav,” Sarek was saying -- with admirable patience. “My government’s instructions will be heard in consul chambers on Babel.”

 

This, shockingly, did not assuage Gav one bit. “No,” he growled. “ _ You _ . How do  _ you _ vote, Sarek of Vulcan?” He punctuated each “you” with a jab of his grubby hand at Sarek’s chest. Was that the slightest curl of Sarek’s lip he saw? Len was amused, despite himself -- not that he could blame Sarek. He was about to interrupt the wound-up Tellarite, when again he was beaten to the punch. Jim had slipped over, finished with the Andorian and drawn in by the raised voice.

 

“Why should you know now?” he questioned. Len was almost proud of the equanimity in Jim’s tone.

 

Gav’s piggish little eyes narrowed as he growled up at the captain. “In a consul,  _ his _ vote carries others. I will know where he stands and why!”

 

“Look, sir,” Jim started, only to be cut short by Sarek.

 

“Tellarites do not argue for reasons, they simply argue,” the ambassador said, with a look of perfect disdain. An enraged noise burst from Gav’s snout.

 

“Now, now,” Jim said, but he was going red in the face, clearly agitated. Len rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his drink. Doc McCoy to the rescue.

 

“Gentlemen,” he said in his best honey-gold drawl. “We’re all getting ahead of ourselves. It’s only a day or two until we reach the system in question. This here,” he gestured his hand, ice clinking in his empty glass, to encompass the whole reception lounge, “is supposed to be fun and relaxing. So let’s move on, shall we?”

 

Gav grumbled but seemed to have lost his steam and retreated back to his fellow Tellarites, muttering darkly to them. But Sarek simply nodded at Len. “Thank you, doctor, and my apologies. I simply have no patience for such foolishness.”

 

Len let out a soft  _ ‘hmph’ _ . “I can sympathise,” he replied.

 

Sarek dipped his head in another nod. “If you will excuse me.” With this, Sarek slipped away to a less crowded area. Len watched him a moment, watched the metallic tube appear again, but he put his attention to his friend. Jim was still clutching a mostly-full glass and glaring at the Tellarites. A frustrated sigh, but -- shit, Len knew what these things were like and how they both liked a drink to knock the edge off, but this was a Starfleet function. Jim was supposed to be representing Starfleet, which he admitted, was even more pressure, but…

 

“Jim…”

 

Jim sighed, glancing over at him. “Thanks for the save, Bones.”

 

Len shook his head. “Someone’s gotta save you from yourself,” he remarked. Jim grunted and stared around the room again. Man, Jim was really bugged. And a little too flushed, even for lingering irritation, Len noted, frowning as Jim drank deeply from his glass. “Look, I know you’re nervous and think you got big shoes to fill, but drinking yourself into a stupor won’t go over well here.”

 

The captain squinted, pinching his face all up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Len plucked the glass from Jim’s fingers. “It means lay off the Andorian wine before you make a fool of yourself and _ I _ have to put you out of your misery.”

 

That, finally, got a smile from the captain. Or maybe it was the fact that he’d spotted Spock. Len couldn’t tell with Jim lately. And despite his growing curiosity in what there was with Jim and Spock (because it was _ something,  _ that was for damn sure) -- Len tuned the pair out. His gaze was drawn to Sarek across the room. The silver tube had vanished again, but… something was off. Sarek was a very distinguished ambassador, yet he was positively antisocial in his behavior, going so far as to very blatantly dodge interaction.

 

Well, Sarek  _ had _ just been rudely accosted in his last conversation, but -- it didn’t seem fitting. Not that Len knew Sarek all that well, but --

 

Before the doctor could ruminate further, the shrill chirp of the shipwide communication tore his attention back to his immediate surroundings.

 

“This is the bridge calling for Spock,” came Uhura’s voice.

 

Both Len and Jim paused, and Spock tilted his head, but he dutifully answered the comm. “Yes, lieutenant?”

 

“Chekov wants you to come to the bridge, sir. I -- he’s very excited, but I think they got a clearer reading of the ship anomaly.”

 

Len frowned, even as Jim and Spock shared a look. “Ship anomaly?” he repeated.

 

“We’ve been getting strange sensor readings like a ship is tailing us, but cloaked,” Jim explained. “We don’t want to panic anyone, but…”

 

Len nodded, eyes drawn to Spock as he acknowledged the message and gave a polite farewell. Jim’s attention was stolen away too, like a dog who’d seen a hole in the fence. “I should go, too. Better to keep as up to date as possible, right?”

 

Len didn’t disagree, knowing that Jim would take any excuse to leave the mixer. He simply nodded and watched as the captain slipped onto the turbolift next to Spock

 

****

 

“Bridge.”

 

The lift whirred to life and began taking them through the decks. Spock glanced up at Kirk, watching as he sighed and tipped his head back. Spock knew this to be a sign of stress or weariness in humans, and furrowed his brows as he further examined the captain.

 

Kirk must have noticed his gaze because he was soon peering back at Spock with a little smile on his lips. “Something on my face?”

 

Spock’s frown deepened at that. “Something…?” Kirk’s cheeks were a little flushed, but otherwise...

 

Kirk waved a hand. “Just an expression, Spock. Teasing you for staring.”

 

Spock considered that, making a face that indicated this tidbit filed under  _ ‘human oddities’ _ , then replied: “It was not my intention to stare. You seemed fatigued. I was watching for more symptoms.”

 

Kirk laughed at this, which only puzzled Spock further. “I wouldn’t call it fatigue,” he replied. “Just feeling a bit like a ping-pong ball.”

 

Spock frowned. This metaphor was also strange to him, but he was able to surmise its meaning well enough. “Your presence isn’t expressly needed, captain -- you could go rest. Forgive me saying so, but it also looks as though you had some alcohol as well…”

 

The captain gave him a look of embarrassment. “I’m fine, Spock, not even a little tipsy. Bones confiscated my drink before you got there, anyway.” He rubbed a hand over his head, and Spock watched the path those fingers took through the blond locks with some fascination. “Anyway, I wouldn’t be able to rest, with everything. Too much excitement.”

 

Spock simply nodded. “I see.” The turbolift doors opened on the bridge, saving him from figuring out anything more to say.

 

“Captain on the bridge,” called Sulu, once he’d turned in the chair to greet them. Kirk smiled.

 

“So, what’ve we got?” Kirk asked. Sulu beckoned them to Chekov’s station and they both followed.

 

“Admittedly, not much, sir,” Chekov said. He pulled up a few sensor recordings.

 

“It’s small,” Spock remarked.

 

“Scouting ship?” Kirk asked, glancing his way.

 

“Very possible.”

 

A frown tugged at Kirk’s lips. “Still no luck hailing it?”

 

“No, sir,” Uhura replied. “It won’t respond on any known language or frequency.”

 

“And we still can’t decipher its signature, model… anything. I’d call it a sensor ghost, but…” Sulu shrugged.

 

“The data is all too real and consistent! Whatever of it there is, I mean,” Chekov amended

 

Kirk frowned in thought, wandering back to the captain’s chair and sitting. “And troubling, with the entourage we’re carrying,” he said.

 

“Indeed.” Spock straightened, starting for his own station. “Forward those to me, ensign.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

For a moment, the bridge was relatively quiet. Spock was nearly immersed in the data Chekov had sent to his station, when the captain’s voice rang out again. “Uhura, where did this personal call come in from?”

 

“New Vulcan, sir. I was told not to bother you with it, so I left the notation on your log.”

 

New Vulcan? Who on New Vulcan was in contact with Kirk? Unless… He turned in time to see a warm smile on Kirk’s face as the captain got to his feet. “Well, I think I’ll return it in my quarters, then.”

 

On impulse, Spock rose as well, sending his work down to the console in his quarters before following Kirk to the turbolift once again as the captain instructed Sulu and Chekov to keep an extra careful watch on the sensors. He gave Spock a curious look, but still commanded the lift towards officers quarters. “Looks like I’m not the only ping-pong ball.” Spock just gave the captain a glance before staring at the turbolift controls, catching Kirk’s frown out of the corner of his eye. “Hey, something on your mind?”

 

Of a sudden, Spock felt foolish. What had he been thinking? (He hadn’t been, hence the problem.) “No, sir.”

 

There was a silence in which Spock got the feeling that Kirk didn’t believe him one bit. “Hey, so -- about that chess games. How about we try one once we get all this business behind us?”

 

Spock lifted his gaze to Kirk’s again, feeling an odd lightness in his chest. “That sounds reasonable, sir,” he said.

 

The captain smiled. “Great,” he replied. He was quiet for a long moment, as though contemplating his next words. In the closed space of the turbolift, he could almost feel the uncertainty wavering off the human’s skin. “This morning, you said something about your parents? And chess being an Earth game?”

 

Spock blinked. “Ah -- yes. It wasn’t their first introduction, but I’ve always understood that their first real conversations happened over a few personal matches.” Kirk had gone quiet and thoughtful again, and despite what he’d said on the way up, Spock did indeed believe he was a  _ little _ affected by the alcohol from the delegate’s mixer. “Captain?”

 

Kirk blinked and looked up. “Sorry, Spock. Lots to think about tonight.” Then he chuckled a little. “Though if we’re going to be spending off-duty hours together, you could call me by name.”

 

Spock tilted his head. “By…”

 

“Yeah,” Kirk said, those very blue eyes glinting like they possessed some inner light. “My friends call me Jim, if you didn’t notice.”

 

“...Jim,” Spock repeated, as though testing how the name felt in his mouth. It felt more natural than he’d thought it would, but even if not, it was worth it just to see the dazzling smile on his captain’s face as he said it.

 

They were quiet a moment longer before Kirk spoke again, “There wasn’t anything else on your mind?”

 

Spock gazed over again, but still he paused. “You… are in contact with my counterpart?”

 

Kirk blinked. “Huh?”

 

“The personal call from New Vulcan. I assumed…”

 

“Oh -- yeah,” he said, shrugging a little. At Spock’s thoughtful silence, Kirk added, “Does that trouble you?”

 

Spock frowned a little. “No -- no, sir. I just didn’t expect it.”

 

Kirk chuckled. “To be honest, I didn’t either. I thought it would be weird -- and sometimes it is, but I don’t know. Talking to him is… comforting. Sorta.” He sighed. “That  _ is _ weird. Sorry.”

 

“You have nothing to apologize for, captain.” Which was true, and yet Spock felt oddly disconnected. Kirk shot him another look which was plainly concern, but the turbolift stopped again, once more saving Spock from needing to further conversation. He gave Kirk a polite nod. “I will be reviewing the new data in my quarters. I look forward to spare time. For a chess match.”

 

Kirk barely got his reply out before Spock set off down the hall. That was a little rude, he supposed, but he was more absorbed in the new information. And the memory of his own last conversation with his elder counterpart.

 

That had only ensured him that his suddenly evolving feelings towards his captain were hopelessly misplaced. Vulcans don’t laugh, but his elder had come close enough when thinking back to the “rumors” about himself and  _ his _ Jim Kirk. No, they’d only been friends. Very close, enduring companionship, but still platonic in nature. As if reassuring Spock, assuming the younger had encountered such rumors already. (He hadn’t -- if they existed -- but he wasn’t even  _ that _ close to Kirk yet.)

 

Lips pressed thin, Spock let himself into his quarters. What an inappropriate topic to obsess over when there was so much else going on. The least he could do was get as much as he could out of the sensor scans of their phantom tail.

 

Besides, he didn’t connect well with humans, anyway, Spock concluded, now pushing away the memory of Nyota Uhura.


	4. Chapter 4

**[four]**

 

Jim settled at his desk with a sigh. It was hard to put Spock’s behavior out of mind when his first officer was sometimes the only thing he focused on… but he had a call to return, if for nothing else than something to do.

 

Put Spock out of mind by calling a different Spock. The thought made him chuckle as he called up the familiar subspace connections. Within moments, the familiar wrinkled face of the elder Spock greeted him and Jim smiled. “You rang?”

 

“Hello, Jim.”

 

Not for the first time, Jim wondered how it would be if  _ his _ Spock called him by name like that, with such a warm tone. The little instance in the turbolift was… honestly adorable. Spock trying on his name, seeing if it fit as well as his uniform. But the way this Spock’s voice seemed almost to caress his name…

 

Yeah, that was too much for his imagination. At least, while he was in polite conversation with an older version of the person he was daydreaming about. Jim simply cleared his throat and teased -- “Sorry about the phone tag.”

 

For once, it seemed, he’d found a turn of phrase that puzzled this elder Spock. It had taken too long, but then this Spock had been around all these  _ illogical humans _ for a few hundred more years than his first officer. “Dare I ask?”

 

Jim grinned. “Maybe later.”

 

Spock inclined his head. “I was simply calling back while I had the time.”

 

“Well, not too much has happened,” Jim said, leaning back in his chair. “Except that I promised Spock to play a chess match with him after this whole business is over with.”

 

Spock’s features did that brightening again. “Oh? I am certain you will enjoy yourselves. The hours that we whiled away playing chess matches… they are some of my favorite memories.”

 

Jim smiled a little. “I didn’t know Vulcans played favorites,” he teased.

 

“There is much about Vulcans that you do not know, I’d venture.”

 

That got a laugh out of Jim. Still, the way Spock had said that… Jim wondered again what the nature of their relationship had been. Knowing Spock, he’d keep it back if there had been romance just so that there was no expectations, no influence either way. And yet… he burned for the knowledge.

 

He’d gone so far as to open his mouth, starting to form the question, before he stopped. Somehow it didn’t seem right. Besides, what would Jim do if Spock said they’d only been friends in his time? What would he do if Spock said they’d been  _ more _ than friends? No, better to leave it alone.

 

Unfortunately, the elder Spock was able to read him as quickly as ever. “Jim?” Jim peered up at him, picking at his uniform shirt. “Is something troubling you?”

 

Funny, how he’d just been asking the other Spock the same question. “Uh…” Now he was just trying for something that would be convincing enough. “Well -- there’s been something… Maybe you could help.” Spock raised his eyebrows, but he waited as patiently as he ever did. “On your  _ Enterprise _ , did you ever have a small, unidentifiable ship tail you around?”

 

Spock was quiet for a moment. “Jim, that could honestly describe too many encounters the  _ Enterprise _ had around the galaxy,” he said.

 

Jim rubbed a hand over his head. “Yeah, I mean…” He laughed, shrugging his shoulders.

 

“And even so,” Spock continued, “I could not accurately predict how any events will turn out. This universe is already so different than the one I knew.”

 

Nodding, Jim leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, I know. Ah well... we don’t even have that much information on it. It stays cloaked except for a minute or two every hour or so.”

 

Spock frowned as though in thought. “I see. I cannot make any promises, but if anything comes to mind, I will let you know.”

 

****

 

Uhura knew how to work and she knew how to relax -- but when something bothered her the way this “ghost ship” bothered her, it was hard to think of anything else.

 

Which is why she was scanning one last time from her personal console, in her room, her hair unpinned as she sat in an evening gown. Nothing so far. Maybe she  _ was _ looking into it too much. She was just about to shut it off again --

 

She frowned. No external hits, perhaps, but there was an unidentified signal. An  _ encrypted _ Uhura felt nearly affronted by that -- despite the size of the crew complement, she was pretty well familiar with the signal patterns aboard the Enterprise!

 

Sighing, she sat back and fiddled with the sleeves of her nightgown. There was no need to be alarmist just yet, she figured -- they had lots of guests on board… some of whom guarded themselves perhaps more secretly than was necessary. It was just as likely one of them.

 

But with the suspected tail? And the sensitive nature of their mission? She doubted it was a coincidence.

 

Shaking her head, Uhura finally did power off the console. Wait and see was the game right now.

 

Wait and see -- and be prepared.

 

****

 

When she got to the bridge that morning, Uhura felt like she had enough on her shoulders already. Once again, it was without Kirk or Spock on the bridge that she settled into her station -- and after the morning, she was eager to think about work instead.

 

She wasn’t disappointed. After a now routine check for the anomalous signal on the radars and scanners, she was back to looking through inter-ship signals. It was a normally boring task, and not something she did much. Even without eavesdropping, there were more things that could be revealed by studying who called who when and how often that were much more personal in nature.

 

Uhura wasn’t that kind of nosy. If she heard scuttlebutt that was one thing, but invading privacy was another…

 

She remembered the signals she’d seen, from Spock to New Vulcan, and felt a pulse of guilt. Even without talking about it, she felt that.

 

Uhura sighed. Something else to table and deal with at a later time. Especially… she squinted and leaned closer to her console.

 

“Got you,” she murmured.

 

It was the same signal. Full of apprehension and a strange sort of excitement, Uhura pulled up an inter-ship communication of her own. What time was it…? Kirk was eating breakfast by now, surely. She made the connection to the commissary and spoke into her mouthpiece: “Bridge to Captain Kirk.”

 

****

 

Breakfast wasn’t even sacred anymore. Len normally got up early so he could avoid too much chatter too early in the morning. But not only was the commissary already full, but it was so with the gods-blast diplomats.

 

What a pain in the ass.

 

Muttering under his breath, Len settled into a less crowded corner from where he could glower at the miserably noisy commissary. A tall figure entered the room, catching Len’s attention as he spooned what the replicators called scrambled eggs into his mouth. Sarek. He was looking a little more grey than green, but that was none of  _ his _ business.

 

Sarek went to the replicator, and came away with only a glass of water and a bowl of soup to hold as he too sought out a relatively quiet spot.

 

The silver tube that appeared from his sleeve again was also none of Len’s business, but at least now he could figure out what it was: a dosage measurer. Sarek dispensed a pill into his palm, and he had only just taken it with a sip of water to wash it down when the same Tellarite from the day before -- Gav -- approached him. “Vulcan, I would speak with you!”

 

Damn. So it wasn’t just Len having a lousy breakfast.

 

Sarek sighed deeply, his lips pressing together tightly. Len recognized  _ that _ expression. “It does seem unavoidable.”

 

“How do you vote on the Coridan admission?”

 

“Persistent bastard,” Len muttered into his food. He swore he saw a twitch at the corner of Sarek’s mouth. If he were human, Len would’ve called it amusement… then he remembered how good Vulcan hearing was and snorted softly.

 

Sarek arched a severe eyebrow. “You seem very unwilling to wait for the council meeting,” he remarked. “No matter. We favor admission.”

 

“You favor!” Gav bellowed. The commissary went oddly still. “Why?”

 

“Under Federation law, Coridan can be protected and its wealth administered for the benefit of its people. The regulation is sorely needed.”

 

The Tellarite made a snarling growl of a noise. “That’s well enough for a Vulcan!” he declared. “No mining interest!”

 

Sarek narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. “Coridan has a nearly unlimited wealth of dilithium crystals, but it is underpopulated and so is lacking in protection. This invites illegal mining operations. Admission would -- ”

 

But Gav didn’t let Sarek continue. “Illegal?” he barked. “You accuse us?”

 

Up went that eyebrow again, and Len snorted into his coffee. Clearly the apple hadn’t fallen very far from the tree. Sarek spoke again, his tone neutral and yet frosty in the way that only a Vulcan could pull off: “Some of your ships have been carrying Coridan dilithium crystals.”

 

“You call us thieves?” Gav didn’t leave time for an answer, as he threw himself at Sarek with a growl. As fierce and angry as the Tellarite was, it was nothing for Sarek to swat him back easily, and Len was on his feet and had grappled Gav’s hands behind his back before this could escalate further.

 

“Look now,” the doctor grunted, “this is getting a little old. If this is gonna be a continuing problem, I’m sure I can talk to the captain about extra security around the both of you.”

 

Sarek stood even taller, if that was possible, and watched as Gav jerked out of Len’s grasp. “That will not be necessary, doctor.”

 

Gav growled, but he composed himself. Or, as composed as he got. “There will be payment for your slander, Sarek of Vulcan,” he snapped as he marched away from them.

 

“Threats are illogical, and payment is usually expensive,” Sarek returned at Gav’s retreating back.

 

Len glanced up at the Vulcan. “I’d look out for that one,” he remarked. “Anger issues.”

 

Sarek arched an eyebrow. “Thank you, doctor, but I can handle myself.”

 

“So I see,” Len grunted. He sighed, gesturing at the table. “Well, don’t let your soup get cold.” Sarek nodded, watching him for a moment as the doctor returned to his own meal.

 

Compared to that, the rest of his breakfast was uneventful. Len was returning his dishes to the replicator when he heard the chirp of the shipwide communications. “Bridge to Captain Kirk,” Uhura called. Len looked over his shoulder, though he knew he couldn’t have missed Jim entering the commissary. Knowing Jim, he’d drank still more, and was probably sleeping it off.

 

That, though, Len kept to himself. But he did flick the comm. on to answer Uhura. “Mornin’, Lieutenant. Jim’s not down here, yet, he might be sleeping in.”

 

“What a morning to do  _ that _ ,” Uhura remarked. She sighed. “Alright. Thanks, doc.”

 

“No problem.”

 

****

 

There were plenty of reasons why Jim Kirk didn’t like being awoken by the shrill beep of shipwide communications -- the least of which being that the noise was downright unpleasant. Grunting, Jim sat up, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He flicked the switch on the console next to his bed. “Yeah?”

 

The second reason was that he was significantly less articulate just after waking. But mostly he just wanted to sleep more.

 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Uhura said. She sounded bright and tickled and utterly  _ awake _ . Ugh.

 

“I know this isn’t a courtesy call,” Jim grumbled.

 

Uhura laughed. “No,” she replied. “I wanted to share something I’ve noticed.”

 

Jim scrubbed his hands over his face, as though trying to physically rub the sleepiness away. “What’s going on?”

 

“Well, starting yesterday, I started picking up a couple of transmissions in the ship. Nothing intelligible -- just a few symbols,” she replied.

 

Jim frowned. “And the source?” he asked, starting to get changed.

 

“That’s the thing, I can’t pin it down, sir,” she said, and Jim had no reason to doubt the frustration in her voice. Uhura took great pride in her work. He paused after getting his second boot on, staring thoughtfully past some point on the floor. At times like this, with the phantom ship lurking around and over 100 delegates aboard the  _ Enterprise _ , Jim did  _ not _ believe in coincidence. And judging from the tone of Uhura’s report, neither did she.

 

“Alright, Lieutenant. Keep trying to isolate it. Kirk out,” he said, getting to his feet. His stomach was finally starting to show interest in a meal, so he could at least stop for breakfast really quick.

 

Considering it was almost 1200 hours, Bones would probably scoff at him calling it breakfast, but whatever. A meal always made him feel better and more awake.

 

In fact, strolling through the halls with the memory of his conversations with both Spocks filtering back in gave him a smile. His friendship with the elder Spock was wonderful in its own right, but it also gave him all the more craving to be closer to his first officer. The fact that his Spock seemed to want that too made him feel like a little schoolboy running around with his first crush.

 

Incredible.

 

Then Jim turned the corner and stopped dead in his tracks.

 

He had never seen a dead Tellarite before, but there was no mistaking the boneless slump of the one shoved in the Jeffries tube. And as he drew closer, he cursed -- it was Gav himself, the ambassador.

 

****

 

Despite the extra passengers on board, ship security had been able to clear and isolate the hallway in less than half an hour. It took even less time for both Spock and McCoy to arrive on the scene after Jim’s pages. “A man can’t even digest his breakfast with some coffee around here,” he was grumbling. Still, he needed no invitation to kneel and examine the body while Jim caught Spock up with as much as he knew. Which was, admittedly, very little, and Jim was getting really sick of not knowing anything about the events surrounding his ship!

 

McCoy got to his feet with a sigh, shaking his head. “What’cha got, Bones?” Jim asked.

 

The doctor frowned, his hands coming to rest at his hips. “Well, his neck was broken. By an expert.”

 

Jim gave him an odd look at that. “An expert?” he repeated. “What does that mean?”

 

“It means that the killer knew the exact location and pressure required to snap the neck instantly,” Bones explained, looking as troubled as Jim felt at  _ that _ information.

 

“Who on board would have that kind of knowledge?” he wondered out loud. He sincerely hoped there was  _ not _ an assassin on the  _ Enterprise _ . That was the absolute last thing they needed.

 

And he hadn’t expected an answer, but Spock provided one. “Vulcans,” he said, and Jim and Bones looked up at him. “On Vulcan, the method is called  _ tal-shaya. _ It was considered a merciful form of execution in ancient times.”

 

“Interesting, but Spock…”

 

“Jim,” Bones interrupted. “Spock, this morning I broke up a fight between Gav and Sarek.”

 

“Indeed? Interesting,” Spock replied.

 

“Interesting?” Jim repeated. “That makes your father the most likely suspect, Spock!”

 

Spock arched an eyebrow at him. “Vulcans do not approve of violence, captain.”

 

Jim had a very vivid memory of Spock’s hands choking him after Jim tore at every wound he could for a reaction which might contest that claim, but he kept that to himself. “That doesn’t mean he couldn’t have done it,” he said. “Not that I want to believe that, but…”

 

“Not at all, captain. I am only saying that it would be illogical to kill without reason.”

 

Jim shared a look with Bones. “But if he had a reason?”

 

“If he had a reason, my father is quite capable of killing, logically and efficiently.”

 

“Logically,” Bones muttered. “Plenty of reasons to wanna snap Gav’s neck, but none of ‘em were  _ logical _ .”

 

Jim cleared his throat, stopping Spock before he could return fire. “ _ Speaking _ of logic, I believe the next step should be to speak with Sarek, yes?”

 

“Of course, captain.”

 

****

 

After the quietest turbolift ride of his life, Jim led the way through the guest quarters until they came upon Sarek’s. There was a collective pause until he finally hit the in-room page. “Ambassador?” he called into it. “Sorry to disturb you, but there is a matter we need to discuss.” Another pause. No reply. He glanced over his shoulder, but Spock said nothing and Bones merely shrugged. Jim sighed. “Sarek?” he tried again. “Are you in there?”

 

When there was again no answer, Jim frowned and turned around. “He could be in meditation, captain,” Spock suggested. “It is a bit late for that, for him, but it is a possibility.”

 

No sooner did the words leave his mouth than did Sarek round the corner. There was the barest waver in his gait before he continued down the hall towards them. “Captain,” he said. “Is there something I can help you with?”

 

Jim squared his shoulders. “Yes, Ambassador -- we have something important to discuss with you. Do you have time?”

 

Sarek simply nodded. “Of course. We can make use of my quarters, if that is suitable.”

 

Jim stepped out of the way with a courteous agreement, letting Sarek input his unlock code and following the tall Vulcan inside. Spock and Bones were close behind him.

 

Sarek’s long robes swept in a gentle arc as he turned to face the trio. “How may I assist you with this important matter?” he asked, his hands folding gently.

 

“About an hour ago, I found the Tellarite ambassador Gav, murdered,” Jim replied. Sarek’s eyebrows lifted at this information, but he remained silent. “Spock described the method used to break his neck as  _ tal-shaya _ .”

 

Sarek canted his head in a way uncannily similar to his son’s mannerism. “Is that so?” he said. “Interesting.”

 

Bones rolled his eyes. “That’s what Spock said,” he remarked.

 

Jim shot him a glance that was just short of a glare before facing Sarek again. “Ambassador, can I ask where you were during the past hour?” He looked around, then amended: “It’s only -- Doctor McCoy said he broke up a fight with you and Gav this morning, and the method…”

 

Sarek held up a hand, halting Jim’s words. “Certainly, captain. Given the evidence, I am a logical suspect,” he said. Something in Jim’s shoulders relaxed at that. Vulcans and their logic; he kept expecting them to react how a human might. Especially Sarek, who played witness to Jim’s underhanded way of taking command of the  _ Enterprise _ on its first mission, right after the loss of their planet. “However, during the past hour, I have been in private meditation.”

 

Jim let his hands rest upon his hips. “Spock said that might be where you were,” he remarked. Then he sighed. “Forgive me for saying so, sir, but ‘private meditation’ is a pretty convenient excuse.”

 

Sarek inclined his head. “I do understand, captain, but I assure you -- ” Suddenly, the Vulcan’s clear, piercing gaze went from alert to glassy and distant as he stopped mid-sentence. Jim took a step forward.

 

“Sarek -- ?” And then the Vulcan collapsed, eyes rolling up as he seized. “Sarek!” Despite his concern, Jim stayed back as both Spock and McCoy rushed to kneel at Sarek’s side. Spock’s firm touch held his father still as Bones ran scans with his medical tricorder. “What happened?”

 

Bones grunted. “Hard to tell. I think it’s cardiovascular, but I’m no expert in Vulcan physiology.”

 

“Can you help him?” Spock asked, very quietly, as Jim began calling a medical team down to Sarek’s quarters. Jim pretended not to hear.

 

The doctor was very quiet. “I don’t know. I’ll try -- and I need to get him to sickbay.”

 

“There’s a team on the way right now,” Jim supplied.

 

“Good,” Bones said. “Tell them to prep an emergency bed, get life support systems up and primed for a Vulcan. We’ll be there in five.”

 

After Jim relayed all of this, all they could do was wait.

 

****

 

“Give me strength, because this entire affair is going to hell in a pretty little handbasket,” Bones grumbled as he collapsed in a chair nearby his emergency patient. Jim walked over with a glass of water from the replicator. “Thanks,” he grunted. He drank deeply from it, while Jim watched Spock at his father’s side with concern.

 

It had only been a little over a year since Vulcan had been swallowed whole and Amanda along with it; Jim thought it was cosmic injustice that Sarek was now so ill. By the time Bones finished downing the water, Spock had approached them, quiet and pensive. “Doctor?” he said.

 

Bones sighed heavily. “I don’t know what the hell is causing it,” he said. “If he were human I’d say he had a heart attack. I can’t tell. But he’s stable for now, so I’m hopeful he won’t be unconscious too long.”

 

Spock nodded. “Yes. Thank you,” he said.

 

The doctor nodded, frowning, before directing a searching gaze up at the Vulcan. “Sarek hasn’t mentioned anything like this to you, has he?” he asked. “Or any health issues at all?”

 

Spock glanced over at Sarek’s still form, then shook his head. “No, doctor. The only thing we have discussed recently has been our current mission or… private.”

 

“Okay,” Bones said, rubbing a hand over his face. “You can stay, if you want, Spock, but…”

 

Something about his posture straightened. “No, thank you,” he said. “There is still much work to do. Please call me if his condition changes.”

 

“Yeah, sure, Spock.”

 

The room suddenly felt much quieter with just Jim and Bones, and Sarek on the bed. The life support beeped softly and steadily, and further out there was the general chatter and bustle of sickbay. Shaking his head, Jim pulled up another chair and sat next to the doctor. “This is a fantastic way my first big diplomatic mission is going, isn’t it?”

 

Bones snorted in laughter. “To be fair, it’s not exactly  _ your _ fault, Jim.”

 

“Yeah, well, the trouble’s gotta find me, huh?”

 

“Like a hound eagerly sniffing a trail back to its master.”

 

Jim chuckled, but there was no mirth behind it. He sank into the chair, the drawn-out weariness that only so much excitement all at once could bring weighing him down. “Think we’ll even make it to Coridan at this rate?”

 

Sighing, McCoy clapped Jim on the shoulder and stood. “‘Course we will,” he said.

 

Jim smiled wryly up at him. “You sound so sure of that.”

 

The doctor grinned. “Well, I didn’t say we’d get there in one piece,” he remarked.

 

“Oh  _ thanks _ ,” Jim retorted, to more laughter from his friend.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting this later than usual! I got caught up in NaNoWriMo planning, ahahaha.

**[five]**

 

0700, look at the door, see Spock -- after a year, Uhura was barely checking the time anymore. It was more like an instinct.

 

Except this morning she looked up… and no Spock.

 

Frowning, Uhura checked the time. 0700 -- 0701 now. That was unusual. Concerned, she watched the door for the next several minutes.

 

Nothing.

 

Now she was worried. Normally, if something came up, Spock was just as meticulous about letting her know. And… well, she’d heard rumors about Sarek in sickbay. Could it be true? Oh, she hoped not. In a professional capacity, he was one of the Federation’s premiere representatives. But she feared for Spock and all his recent losses.

 

Whatever the case, she was certain something was wrong. Uhura ate the rest of her breakfast as quickly as she could manage, hardly tasting it, before leaving swiftly for the bridge.

 

****

 

She got to the bridge, expecting it to still be mostly empty as with the past few days. But Spock was there, at the science station. Uhura was so surprised, expecting to have to track him down from her own station, that she blurted out, “Spock!” upon arriving on the bridge.

 

He just barely glanced her way.

 

She strode over to him, ignoring the glances the remaining overnight crew sent. “Spock,” she murmured, closer to him.

 

“Yes, Lieutenant?” Spock said, facing her.

 

Uhura looked him over critically. He appeared ever the composed Vulcan and yet… something about the rumple of his uniform, the way his skin seemed paler and his eyes duller… “Are you alright?”

 

Head tilt. “Yes, of course,” he replied. “Ah -- I apologize for my absence this morning. I was busy with a few projects.”

 

Over his shoulder, Uhura could see a near comical amount of queries and tasks open on his console. “I see. It’s fine, Spock, I was just worried.”

 

Spock was already returning to his work. “No cause for concern, Lieutenant. I merely lost track of the time.”

 

Uhura sighed; she severely doubted that. From anyone else but Spock, it sounded reasonable, and yet… “Are you sure everything is alright?” she asked, knowing it was pointless and unable to help it anyway.  

 

Spock didn’t even look aside as he replied: “Yes, of course.”

 

Uhura pressed her lips thin. Knowledge didn’t prevent frustration. But she said nothing and simply turned to walk back to her own station and get to work. She had signals to isolate.

 

********

 

The next day saw Jim feeling about the same as before: exhausted, worried, and now with a faint sense of dread. What else could happen? he wondered, but he didn’t dare voice it. Too much a risk to tempt fate. Jim wasn’t superstitious, really, but this mission was testing  _ that _ .

 

At least, for once, he hadn’t been awoken by the shrill beep of the shipwide communications. And when he made his trek to the commissary, there were no more dead ambassadors around. Even better.

 

He sighed as he settled at a table with his breakfast, and was quickly joined by a haggard looking McCoy. Jim let out a grunt as he finished chewing a mouthful of toast. “Damn, Bones, did you sleep at all?”

 

His friend gave him a sour look. “Not very well,” he remarked. “Now shut up until I drink my coffee.”

 

Jim chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “Got it.” And from that point they ate their meals in companionable silence.

 

While there was no more drama with the diplomats -- knock on wood -- they got a surprise in the form of Lieutenant Uhura approaching them. Normally, Uhura got up much earlier, and so dined earlier and was at work by the time Jim and Bones were eating. She sat with them, which really gained Kirk’s interest. “Morning, Uhura,” he said, watching as she sat and started peeling the orange she’d carried in hand.

 

Uhura smiled, but Jim caught a hint of something else when it didn’t entirely reach her eyes. “Good morning,” she said. She lifted the fruit, discarding the rinds on Jim’s empty plate. “Got a little peckish.”

 

Bones, who was slightly less murderous on his third cup of coffee, grunted softly. Jim thought that was  _ supposed _ to be a laugh, but who knew? “Not that I’m not thrilled that you’re having such a nutritious snack, but don’t you usually sneak those onto the bridge?”

 

Uhura gave him a look of surprise, but she eventually joined in with Jim’s laughter. And that, at least, was genuine, her eyes lighting up with mirth as she covered her mouth. “Wow,” she said. “Busted.” As Jim struggled to get a reign in on his laughter, Uhura shook her head. “How did you know?”

 

Bones shrugged. “You’re always throwing rinds or cores or something in the disposal just outside the bridge. I saw a couple times.”

 

“Such attention to detail,” she teased.

 

“I am a doctor, ma’am,” he replied, with a playful bow at the table. He straightened, stretching his arms out with a sigh. “Anyway, I only brought it up because I was curious as to why you’ve graced us with your lovely presence.”

 

Uhura smiled again, but she sighed, and that distant quality came back to her expression. “Well, it was a quiet morning. I still can’t isolate those transmissions,” she added, looking towards Jim, “but there haven’t been any more, yet. And… this is going to sound peculiar, but -- Spock dislikes the scent of oranges. Don’t ask me why, but he always has. I thought I could just stretch my legs and have my snack down here, and not disturb him.”

 

Jim frowned a little. “Disturb? What has he been working at so early, then?”

 

Uhura shook her head. “Anything he can, I think.” She separated off a section of the orange and ate it, eventually spitting a seed into her hand, and Jim was simply in awe at how delicate she made that look. “I heard…” She sighed. “Word gets around, as you know. I heard something about his father being in sickbay. Is that true?”

 

McCoy sighed. “Unfortunately,” he said.

 

Uhura looked more troubled as she ate another piece of her orange. “I thought it must be, or something close to it,” she said. “He looks like he’s been there all night. I mean -- you’d never know by his  _ behavior _ or how he looks or anything, but I guess I can still just tell.”

 

“All-nighter?” Jim whistled lowly, but now he too look concerned.

 

“Vulcans don’t require as much sleep or rest as humans do,” Bones put in. “Aside from ones recovering from a mysterious ailment.”

 

“Yeah, but I rarely see him break from his routine,” Jim replied. “Obviously things have been extreme enough lately, but…”

 

Uhura shrugged her slim shoulders. “Sometimes Vulcans need to distract themselves, too. He’d hate to hear me say that, but…” She grinned a little. Jim returned the smile.

 

“I should head on up there, anyway. Maybe make it all the way through alpha shift without any drama.”

 

“Don’t jinx it!” Bones chided.

 

****

 

As soon as Jim arrived on the bridge, he immediately recognized what Uhura had been talking about. Spock was at his station, working hard, clearly absorbed. And yet… the energy about him was more tense than his normal serenity. Not that he appeared any less calm, but…

 

Sulu hailed a greeting, Jim called them at ease, but Spock barely twitched an eyelid. Frowning a little, the captain approached Spock at his station, leaning on the console a close, but still respectful distance from his space. “Spock.”

 

“Good morning, captain. I managed to get sensor readings of tri-tritanium from the alien ship’s hull,” Spock replied, not looking up from what seemed to be a long list of calculations.

 

Jim frowned further. “I’m sorry about your father.”

 

A pause. Barely there, but all motion ceased in Spock for a moment before he went back to his work. “Yes,” he said, “it could adversely affect our mission.”

 

Brows furrowing, Jim shifted, straightening a little. “Aren’t you worried?”

 

“Worry is a human emotion, captain,” Spock replied, and really, Jim should have known  _ that _ was coming. “I accept what has happened.” He flicked through a few screens before highlighting a section to show him. “The ship’s hull seems to have a high density level in addition to its cloaking abilities. It is manned, but any more specifics are still unclear.”

 

Jim sighed. He was worried, himself, but he knew a brick wall when he ran into one. “I see,” he replied. “Well, the Romulans have nothing like it. Neither does the Federation or neutral planets. What about Klingons?”

 

Spock looked up at him. “I think that unlikely.”

 

“Then who?” Jim murmured, crossing his arms as he pondered.

 

“I do not know, sir.”

 

Jim sighed, giving him a wan smile. “Your guesses are better than mine, but I know that you don’t like to guess.” He shook his head, then peered closely at him. “Lieutenant Uhura had the impression that you worked here through the night.”

 

Spock blinked, giving Jim his best ‘innocent and logical Vulcan’ look. “Indeed?”

 

“Yes. Is it true?”

 

There was a pause, as if Spock wasn’t sure what the appropriate response was, but eventually he relented: “Yes, sir.” Jim just nodded, even as Spock added, “Captain, I assure you, Vulcans do not -- ”

 

“Require as much rest, yeah, I know,” Jim finished. Then he shrugged. “But just to make this silly, emotional human feel better, how about you get on to your quarters anyway?”

 

Spock was quiet for a moment. “Is that an order, sir?”

 

Jim looked at him in surprise. “Yes, it is,” he replied.

 

For just a moment, the Vulcan’s shoulders seemed to sag -- and then he was on his feet, and perfectly composed as ever. “Very well, sir. I shall see you at a later time.”

 

“Of course, Spock,” Jim said, watching Spock’s retreating back, looking unsettled.

 

****

 

Spock sighed as he stepped into his quarters. The captain was just worried, he knew, but it wasn’t very… conducive. But, he reasoned, since he’d worked through the night, he had missed his morning meditation, he could do a compensatory meditation now, and perhaps continue going over the new data he’d gleaned about the ship that was, presumably, still pacing them.

 

And, regretfully enough, he was in need of clearing his mind.

 

Pacing over to his mats, Spock settled into the familiar seated posture. The mechanics were automatic by now: eyes closed, breaths became deep and slow, joints and muscles relaxed, his mind --

 

His mind was as busy and unquiet as ever. Spock pressed his lips together, finding it difficult in that moment to put aside the thread of frustration that rose up and added to his mess of a mind. Still, he persevered, until it became apparent that a meditative state was beyond his reach right now. A waste of a half-hour.

 

Jim’s concern hadn’t been misplaced. Not that Spock would ever reveal anything of the kind, to the captain or anyone. His mother, once,  _ maybe _ , but… his mother was not here.

 

Spock stood quickly. If he could not meditate, then he would work. No losses.

 

He had only just settled at his desk when the shipwide communications let out a high-pitched whistle. Spock took a moment to breathe deeply and collect himself. The persistent frustration tried to rise up again and he quashed it again. “Spock here,” he finally answered.

 

“ _ There _ you are,” McCoy grumbled roughly over the line.

 

Spock arched an eyebrow. “Yes, how can I help you, doctor?”

 

“Get on down to sickbay,” he said. “Sarek is waking up.”

 

****

 

Spock arrived at sickbay at the same time as Kirk, but they said nothing as they quickly made their way back to where Sarek had been set up. His father still seemed to be unconscious, but a quick glance at the vital signs readout told him that Sarek was attempting a healing trance. Doctor McCoy was not incorrect; Sarek would awake soon.

 

The human phrase  _ weight off the shoulders _ had held absolutely no meaning to him until this point.

 

But as always, his veneer remained in tact. Spock looked at McCoy. “Doctor?”

 

McCoy sighed, putting aside a PADD. “The best I can tell, there was a malfunction in one of his heart’s valves. So my first guess was kinda right, but I couldn’t tell with absolute certainty unless I perform surgery.”

 

“Is surgery really that necessary?” Kirk asked.

 

The doctor was about to reply, but they all paused as Sarek stirred on the bed, McCoy instantly there with a tricorder, running double checks on all the equipment’s readings. Still it only took a moment for Sarek to give McCoy a  _ look _ , and sit himself up on one of the cushions. “I am fine now, doctor, thank you.”

 

McCoy  _ glared _ . “You are  _ not _ fine,” he growled. “Have you had any other attacks like these? And don’t you lie to me.”

 

Sarek looked as affronted as any Vulcan ever deigned to, and replied cooly, “Vulcans cannot lie, doctor.”

 

McCoy rolled his eyes. “Sure,” he said dryly. “Answer the question, please.”

 

“Yes,” Sarek finally said. “There were three others. My physician prescribed Benjisidrine for the condition.”

 

Nodding, the doctor picked up his PADD again, scrawling down a few notes. Spock took a few steps forward. “Father, why did you not inform me of your condition?”

 

“There was nothing you could have done.”

 

Spock was quiet at that reply, but he wasn’t satisfied with that. Even though, logically, he knew his father was correct, it was still…

 

...frustrating. He really should have tried harder at his meditations. Spock let out a deep, controlled exhale.

 

“When were these other attacks?” McCoy asked, drawing Sarek’s attention, thankfully, away from Spock’s cracking control.

 

“Two, before we left New Vulcan. The third was yesterday.” Sarek turned his gaze on Kirk. “I was on an observation deck. When Gav was murdered, I was quite incapacitated.”

 

“Were there any witnesses?” Kirk asked. A logical question, and one, Spock gathered, that the captain took no pleasure in asking.

 

“None.”

 

So Sarek couldn’t be entirely eliminated as a suspect just yet. Kirk sighed deeply, but he looked back at McCoy. “Alright, same question as before. Is this surgery really recommended?”

 

The doctor frowned deeply. “Well, Jim, it’s hard to say. The surgery I’m talking about is difficult enough on a human. On a Vulcan…”

 

“It’s that difficult?”

 

“Yes,” Sarek answered. “Because of the construction of the Vulcan heart.”

 

“The most logical approach would be a cryogenic open-heart procedure,” Spock said.

 

“Unquestionably.”

 

Kirk glanced over at McCoy. “Bones?”

 

“Well, I’m glad someone thought to ask _ me _ ,” he grumped. “That procedure requires a  _ tremendous _ amount of blood for the patient, and last I checked we don’t have near enough Vulcan blood currently in the blood banks to even dream of doing such an operation!”

 

The captain folded his arms, sharing a look with Spock. “There  _ are _ other Vulcans aboard.”

 

Once again, it was Sarek who replied to Kirk. “My blood type is T-negative. Rare, even for a Vulcan.” Kirk once again glanced at McCoy, who nodded. The captain sighed deeply.

 

“Doctor, my blood type is also T-negative.”

 

It was McCoy’s turn to sigh. “Yeah, Spock, but your blood isn’t pure Vulcan blood. As dominant as those genes are, there’s still human elements in the plasma.”

 

Spock tilted his head. “It should be possible to filter out the human factors.”

 

“ _ And _ the amount of blood needed -- Spock even you couldn’t give that much. It would kill you!” Spock gave him that tight-lipped look and McCoy sighed, looking apologetically between father and son. “I’m sorry, but you’ve got to understand that the chances are extremely small to find a way to produce enough T-negative blood for  _ any _ operation.”

 

Spock frowned deeply. “I understand, doctor. I would calculate the odds to be -- ”

 

“Please don’t,” McCoy and Kirk said in unison.

 

This time, Sarek and Spock exchanged a look, one that clearly said  _ humans. _ “Look, Spock -- Sarek -- I’ll keep looking for a way. I just don’t wanna get your hopes up.”

 

“Vulcans have no use for hope, doctor,” Sarek replied mildly.

 

McCoy shook his head as he picked up the PADD and retreated to his office, muttering what sounded like, “Well that explains a whole damn lot.”

 

****

 

Uhura wasn’t sure she really had expectations when trying to find Chekov, but being informed that he was in the arboretum was apparently not one of them. No matter. She was off-duty and a walk down there sounded nice enough.

 

But she was still full of enough distracted energy that she walked quickly and barely said more than hello to passerby.

 

It was Chekov  _ and _ Sulu she found in the arboretum when she arrived. At this, Uhura wasn’t particularly surprised, given the location and how close the two of them were. Sulu smiled warmly at her and called a greeting that caught Chekov’s attention.

 

Uhura smiled in return as she approached.

 

“Here for a nice walk? Some of the gardenias are in bloom.” Sulu indicated some of the shrubs, which indeed bore many sweet-smelling flowers.

 

“They’re lovely, but I’m afraid not. I came here to ask Chekov something.”

 

Chekov blinked, surprised, but he grinned as well. “What could I do for you?”

 

Despite her earlier words, Uhura easily found herself strolling alongside the pair as they talked. “Well, I wanted to know if you had any additional decryptions I could run,” she said. “I’ve thrown everything I’ve got at these signals I’m tracking and so far… nothing.”

 

There was a little bounce in his step as he answered: “Oh, sure! I can bring a couple of programs by to you. And if they do not work, I am happy to look at the signals with you and see if I can whip up something myself.”

 

Uhura smiled; Chekov looked perhaps too excited at writing decryption codes in real time, but his enthusiasm was endearing. “Thanks, Chekov. I appreciate it.”

 

“No problem!” he chirped. “We will have this licked soon enough! I will stop by soon.”

 

Obligingly, they had circled back around to the front. But Sulu was giving her a sidelong glance. “Is it only the signals weighing on your mind?” he asked.

 

Uhura sighed. Damn, Sulu was good. “No. I mean -- Sarek is in sickbay now, on top of there being an assassination of a different ambassador… I’m just worried.”

 

Chekov nodded and Sulu hummed in agreement. “It is concerning.”

 

It was, but the three of them had seemed to acknowledge -- and say nothing about -- the fact that there were more specific things and people she was concerned about.

 

And wasn’t that ironic?

 

But they were at the door again and Uhura shook the thought away and offered her friends another smile. “Well, thanks again. See you again soon.”

 

Chekov and Sulu echoed the sentiment as she stepped through the door. And still she was shaking her head at herself. She was working her worry away in the end too, wasn’t she?

 

Yes, she thought, but at least she acknowledged it.

 

****

 

The hours trickled by, and eventually Sarek slipped into a slumber. Jim felt out of place and yet not, sitting there with Spock. And somehow they moved together naturally to Bones’s office, helping him pour through PADD after PADD of research.

 

Jim wasn’t sure what use he was; he was clever, but medical research this specialized wasn’t really his thing. After a while, when his eyes got tired of reading about plasma and platelets, he started to organize the PADDs instead, putting away the useful ones and making a pile of tentative hopefuls. (More like “these likely won’t work at all” but it felt better to have the stack, for Spock’s sake.) The resolute, exhausted looks that Bones sent him were coming more frequently as he discarded more PADDs.

 

Spock, predictably, never looked up or allowed any distraction as he sifted through the material much more quickly than even the doctor could hope to. And once he had finished, he double-checked the painfully small “maybe” pile, and -- “Doctor.”

 

“Yes?” Bones said, sounding grouchier than he probably meant to. A smile briefly flicked over Jim’s lips; Bones had hated cramming in Starfleet Academy too, despite how good a student he’d been. Spock strode over to the doctor’s desk, handing him the PADD. Bones sighed. “I saw that, Spock. That was Rigelian.”

 

“Rigelian anatomy is very similar to Vulcan.”

 

“Similar is not good enough when the drug is experimental.”

 

Spock paused, and if Jim didn’t know better, he’d say his first officer was taking a calming breath, or maybe counting to ten. “But it  _ does _ look promising.”

 

Bones wasn’t pausing for any calming breaths, however. “Spock, we would need such great amount that even  _ if _ the drug worked safely and properly -- which I personally  _ doubt _ \-- it would still drain Sarek to a critical level!”

 

“The safety factor is low, but I consider it acceptable,” Spock replied with a frown.

 

“Well that’s grand for you, Spock, but I’ve also never operated on a Vulcan before! Sure, I know where all the organs are, what the vitals should look like, all that -- but it’s a lot different from actual surgical experience!” Bones dropped the PADD on his desk with a sigh. “So if the drug doesn’t kill him, I just might with the operation.”

 

“I have every faith in you, doctor.”

 

McCoy pursed his lips, giving Jim a  _ help me _ look. “Spock, that’s nice, but -- ”

 

“Doctor, I ask that you reconsider. Please.”

 

That got Bones to sigh and look at Jim. “What do  _ you _ think?”

 

Jim raised his eyebrows. “You’re asking my  _ medical _ opinion?” he said, and earned one of Bones’s more impressive glares.

 

“All I’m saying is that it puts tremendous stress on the spleen and the liver, and in Sarek’s condition…”

 

There was silence, and Jim clenched his hands into tight fists on the table behind him. This sort of impossible situation was the thing he  _ hated _ . And he knew for a fact that the other two in the room disliked being helpless just as much as he did. Even more so for Spock, who had so recently lost Amanda…

 

“Use it on me.”

 

There was another silence, though this one was shocked. “What?” Bones barked. “Spock -- ”

 

Spock lifted that eyebrow, regarding the doctor coolly. “It would appear the only logical option.”

 

Bones got to his feet, leaning his palms on his desk. “It could damage you internally! It could kill you! I’m sorry, Spock, but I can’t allow it. And don’t look at Jim, on medical matters I override even the captain.”

 

“Then you automatically condemn my father to death,” Spock said, and Bones sighed, standing up straighter.

 

“Spock…”

 

“Doctor, there is no other alternative,” he said, staring hard between Bones and Jim. “If you do not operate, Sarek will die. You now have the means by which to operate. I volunteer as blood donor. I shall be at my station until you need me.”

 

Spock left the room, leaving no room for argument. Jim looked at Bones, who gave him a tight-lipped frown. “Well,” he grumbled. “I guess I should prep for surgery.”

 

Standing up from the table he’d leaned against, Jim clapped a hand on Bones’s shoulder. “You’ll be able to do it, Bones.”

 

Bones glared. “What are y’all, the friggin’ feel-good police?” He swatted Jim’s hand away. “Now get the hell out of my office.”

 

Jim chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, alright.”

 

****

 

It was surprisingly easy to catch up with Spock in the hallway, and thankfully he paused when Jim called his name. The captain trotted to catch up with him, but before he could say anything more, Spock already spoke. “I did not forget your earlier command, captain. I will head back to my quarters instead of the bridge.”

 

“Uh… no, Spock, that’s fine,” Jim said with a frown. It was early evening anyway! Long after their usual duty shifts concluded. But Jim found he couldn’t judge that, because his instinct was to be on the bridge, too. There were too many open questions about who was causing trouble on his ship -- and stalking it.

 

Spock tilted his head. “Then shall I return to the bridge?”

 

“If you… want to?” Jim sighed. “Spock -- that’s not what I’m trying to say right now.”

 

“Then what is it you require of me, captain?”

 

Jim banged his fist on the wall with a frustrated sound. “Dammit, Spock! I’m worried about you!”

 

Spock stopped, turning to face Jim with an almost perplexed look. “Jim…” He looked unsure how to respond to that, and Jim was still too caught up in his momentary frustration to appreciate how  _ cute _ that was. Something about Spock’s jaw tightened, though, and he said, “Please do not expend your energy in a negative way on my part. As long as Doctor McCoy performs this surgery, everything will be fine.”

 

Given Bones’s reservations, Jim highly doubted that, but he kept that to himself. “It’s not that,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “And Bones is prepping for the surgery. Just give him a bit.”

 

“Naturally.”

 

A not  _ quite _ tense silence stretched between them before Jim sighed once again. “I’m just worried you’re not caring for yourself properly,” he finally said, loosely crossing his arms.

 

Spock’s brow creased. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

Jim gave him a  _ look _ . “Do I have to spell it out? This isn’t just anyone, Spock. Sarek is your  _ father _ .” The fact that he was the only family Spock had left went without saying. Spock went quiet and Jim knew he’d made his point.

 

Finally: “Do you have any family, captain?” After a moment, Spock corrected -- “Jim.”

 

Jim smiled a little. Empty as the distance he’d put between himself and his mother. “My mother’s still alive, but that’s about all I can say about it.”

 

Another pause. “I am sorry.”

 

Jim shook his head. “Don’t be. I’ve got the  _ Enterprise _ as my bride… and I think we’re all getting pretty close, don’t you think?” He smiled wider. “Even the two of us -- and who would’ve figured on that?”

 

Spock quirked an eyebrow. “Indeed. I do not regret it, however.”

 

“Oh, never,” Jim agreed.

 

“What about Doctor McCoy?”

 

Jim blinked. “What about him?”

 

“The two of you have been very close for a long while,” Spock said. “I would think that as far as surrogate family goes, he might be the first on your mind.”

 

The captain laughed. “I guess, but I think most of the time he wants to kill me rather than put me back together.” Spock lifted his eyebrows and Jim laughed. “I think he takes the Hippocratic oath a little more loosely than other doctors.”

 

Spock wisely chose not to comment on that. “And Lieutenant Uhura? You were quite adamant about pursuing her for some time,” he explained at Jim’s confused look.

 

Jim laughed. “Oh,” he said. “I gave up on that a long time ago. I didn’t have a chance compared to you, really.” And then he bit his lip, cursing himself internally. That was great, remind him of his breakup with Uhura right after reminding him unnecessarily that he was dangerously close to losing his father. “Shit. I’m sorry, Spock. I’ve got this problem where I can’t stop sticking my foot in my mouth no matter what I’m trying to say.”

 

“Foot…” Spock stopped  _ that _ thought, clearly deciding that he wouldn’t fuss over the slang this time. He didn’t  _ seem _ bothered, but when did he ever? “I assure you it’s alright, Jim.” Man, he was never going to get sick of hearing Spock call him by name. “The split was amicable. You could even pursue her again, if you still harbor romantic feelings.”

 

The captain shook his head firmly, chuckling again. Considering, as it turned out, that he was far more into Spock nowadays anyway. But he didn’t say that, he just made a joke -- something he was good at. “Nah, she’d probably hurt me worse than Bones. Besides, I’m happy with her companionship. No reason to try and change that now.”

 

Spock nodded. “I understand,” he replied, then looked at Jim a little more squarely. “And I apologize.”

 

A frown. “Whatever for?”

 

“I did not intend to push, if you aren’t interested in pursuing anyone. It is not my business.”

 

Jim waved a hand. “Spock it’s fine. I’m not bothered, just curious why my lack of a love life is so interesting,” he replied. Certainly not for the reasons Jim could  _ hope _ for, but he could let his imagination run wild in the sudden long silence. The  _ very _ long silence. Jim stopped again, peering over at Spock. “You okay, Spock? It wasn’t a trick question, or -- hell it wasn’t even serious. I was just joking.”

 

Spock glanced at him, considering. “I was merely curious beyond my place,” he said. “You have a bit of a reputation.”

 

Ow. Jim didn’t doubt  _ that _ was true, but damn. Still, he came up with a bubble of laughter, shooting a little grin Spock’s way. “I didn’t know Vulcans were so into gossip, Spock,” he teased.

 

Spock arched that eyebrow. “Not at all,” he replied. “We simply have sharp ears.” Jim couldn’t tell if that was a joke or not. He wasn’t sure if that would make it better or worse.

 

Jim shook his head. “I’m surprised that still goes around, to be honest,” he said. “I’ve been far too busy keeping the  _ Enterprise _ running.” Funny, he used to think that being busy was just a cop-out, but now he knew otherwise!

 

“I see. Understandable,” Spock said with a little nod. “So then, if you were under less stress or pressure, you’d be more free to pursue your interest.”

 

Jim felt his heart do an odd flip. “I suppose -- wait, I never said I had an  _ interest _ ,” he said, though  _ now _ it was too late for that.

 

“You do not always have to state a thing in order for it to be heard,” Spock replied.

 

Holy shit.

 

Jim stopped dead in his tracks, ogling Spock. His first officer turned and gave him a look that, for a Vulcan, bordered on concern. “Jim?” Jim finally snapped out of it and met Spock’s gaze. “I apologize, I overstepped again.”

 

He managed to shake his head. “Don’t worry about it, Spock,” he said, then continued before Spock could interject, “--worry is a human thing, yeah, I know. But the idea is the same. I should get going, though.” Jim smiled, almost a little too brightly. “You rest on up before the surgery, alright? We could play that chess match when you come out of it.”

 

Spock cocked his head. “Of course. I shall try to meditate again. My earlier attempts were not very successful.”

 

Jim was already trotting down the other hall, waving over his shoulder. “See you later then,” he called. He still grinned when he heard a soft  _ ‘indeed’ _ from behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

**[six]**

 

Jim was spending far too much time in his room, he knew, but he still wasn’t sure if he’d recovered from that last conversation with Spock. It wasn’t that it had been upsetting, but going straight from “you have a reputation” to very astute inferences that he was interested in someone but not pursuing was -- well, knowing his mouth, it was better to just remove himself from the situation before he could say anything truly incriminating.

 

Pushing his one-sided feelings on Spock was certainly not the thing to do. Not with Sarek in critical condition and the ship’s doctor so pessimistic about the only viable treatment option.

 

Eventually, he simply settled on his bed, eyes closed and fingers laced over his middle. Not really napping, but being still and quiet was surprisingly relaxing. If this is what meditation was like, then Jim might have to look into it, because when his console comm. unit beeped, he was alert and nowhere near as annoyed as he would have been had he gone to sleep. Jim sat up, tapping the accept switch. “Kirk,” he answered.

 

“Captain.” It was Spock, which was ironic, because Jim had considered calling up the older Spock again. Still, the smile on his face right now -- well he was glad this was only an audio exchange.

 

“Yes, Spock?”

 

“It has been two-point-five-three hours.” Had it really? It hadn’t felt that long to Jim -- but then he didn’t have a precise internal clock like Spock, either. “I have meditated successfully, but I would prefer to continue any work at my station on the bridge.”

 

Jim laughed. “By all means, relocate,” he said. “You aren’t confined to quarters, Spock.”

 

There was a pause and Jim could only imagine the look Spock might be giving his own comm. unit. “Your order, sir, I thought -- ”

 

“I ordered you to go to your quarters and get some rest. I think two hours of meditation qualifies as rest, doesn’t it?”

 

There was a long pause. Finally: “Yes, sir, it is more than sufficient for a Vulcan.”

 

“Then you may do as you wish, Mr Spock. If you’re going to the bridge, I will join you.” 

 

“Of course, sir. Though -- is it not late for you?”

 

Jim shrugged, even though Spock couldn’t see it. “Nothing else for me to do and sleep won’t be easy. I’ll at least feel productive. See you soon.”

 

Jim reclined on his bed a little, smiling at nothing for just a bit. Well, Spock had sounded… better. More himself, more centered. Honestly, he didn’t know how he was quantifying that, or if he wasn’t just imposing his own assumptions and expectations on the Vulcan, but it still left him feeling relieved.

 

Shaking his head mostly at himself, Jim tugged his boots on and quickly smoothed any wrinkles out of his uniform shirt, before he was finally out in the hallways again. The path he took to the bridge was a well-worn one, at least in his mind. Comfortable, like the broken in boots on his feet. Therefore it shouldn’t have been such a surprise that someone could so easily jump him, but he let out an unheard yelp when he was hit by a small but solid weight.

 

Of course. This corridor was always less traveled during certain parts of the day.

 

Jim easily twisted out of his assailant’s grasp. He spotted snow-white hair, blue skin -- an Andorian?

 

The glint of a blade caught his eye and he didn’t have time to ponder who was attacking him or why. Jim grunted as he grappled with the Andorian. Clearly a race underestimated in physical strength! He’d always excelled at martial arts and defense courses, but his opponent was just as skilled -- but Jim was more concerned with keeping the blade away from his body than doing any fancy tricks he might have once learned.

 

Thrown off-balance, Jim staggered against a wall, and he was too slow in spinning to cover his vulnerable back; the next thing he knew was hot pain piercing his back. A curse left his lips that time. The pain and adrenaline gave him a boost, enough to threw off the Andorian and land a luckily well-placed blow. His attacker collapsed at his feet, unconscious.

 

Not that it was helping Jim much at the moment. The dagger was still in his back, burning hot agony whether he moved or not. So he might as well move down the hall to a comm. switch.

 

Each step was an exercise in anguish, but he slowly made his way to the switch, his vision narrowing down to that goal as he ignored the warm trickle of blood down his back. Jim inexpertly slapped his hand against the switch and let out a gasp when he heard the responsive chirp.  _ Good _ . Now all he had to do was hope that someone was listening on the other end of the frequency he’d just opened up.

 

****

 

When Spock arrived on the bridge, he looked about expectantly, and stopped short when he didn’t see the captain. There was no way to miss him -- his presence was bright and unmistakable wherever he went. Uhura turned to look at the lift entrance. “Spock?” she said. Looks like he and the captain weren’t the only ones ‘working late.’

 

Shaking himself out of the moment, he turned to meet her gaze. “Apologies,” he said. “I had expected the captain to arrive here first.”

 

“Huh,” she said. “Haven’t seen or heard from him lately. He’ll turn up.”

 

“Indeed,” Spock murmured. Well, there was nothing to do except return to his station and continue his current projects --

 

“Spock.”

 

The way Nyota said his name made him stop immediately. “Yes?”

 

“The captain is -- where, sir?” she said, the last piece directed to her headset. “Deck five. Security team to deck five!”

 

“Lieutenant, what has happened?” Spock was feeling a bit more alarm than he should at the sudden call for a security detail.

 

But she was still speaking into the headset, her fingers flipping through frequencies. “Sir? Captain!” With a soft curse, Uhura pulled the earpiece out of her ear. “I lost him. He said he was attacked, Spock, on his way here -- I think he’s hurt. He wasn’t making much sense…”

 

Spock’s posture straightened. Even as he replied, he was trekking back to the turbolift. “I will meet the security team down there. Have security reinforced on all decks. Yellow alert condition.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

****

 

There were even more things for him to compartmentalize and feel nothing about when he got to the scene. An unconscious Andorian, a short trail of bright red human blood, and Jim’s prone form. The hilt of a dagger protruded from the captain’s back and Spock attempted to stop the furious calculating of where the blade could be buried by moving into action.

 

The captain had lost a good bit of blood, and was still bleeding, from what Spock could see, as he knelt down.

 

“Commander? Should we call for a medical team?”

 

“No.”

 

“Sir?” Clearly that hadn’t been the expected answer.

 

Spock carefully slipped his arms around Kirk and stood with great care. The captain’s weight was nothing, but he didn’t want to agitate the injury more than could be avoided. “A medical team would take too long. I will take the captain directly to sickbay.” He looked down at the Andorian on the floor. “Detain this Andorian as the assailant. I will speak with him at the first opportunity.”

 

Acknowledgements of his orders went around, but Spock didn’t need to stay to hear them all out. He moved as swiftly through the corridors as he could, holding Jim close to his own body. Human skin was cool to Spock’s touch, but he swore Jim’s felt moreso than usual. It was so different, too different, the vibrancy of life missing from the captain’s features, even just in unconsciousness.

 

Spock was finding it too difficult to think purely logically, which meant he was back to where he started the day. But that was a puzzle he’d solve later, when he had the luxury of pushing away the feeling of human blood on his skin.

 

Sickbay erupted into chaos when he finally arrived, and it suddenly occurred to Spock that he hadn’t thought to alert them to the condition, aside from the standard shipwide yellow-alert announcement. The last thing he needed in his state was more human havoc around him, but there was nothing for it except to follow the loud sounds of Doctor McCoy barking orders. He practically cradled Kirk to the bed indicated, careful to lay him on his side and not jostle the dagger.

 

All of the sounds of sickbay, even McCoy’s yelling, seemed tinny and far away, as Spock took in how pale Jim’s usual pink skin looked. Suddenly, fire jolted through his mind from a cool touch to his wrist. Spock felt thrown back into himself, but at least he was present, and looked down. McCoy. That was an effective and surprisingly courteous way of alerting a touch-telepath.

 

“Spock,” McCoy said, and he had the feeling that it was far from the first or even fifth time that the doctor had said his name. “You with me?’

 

“Yes, doctor. My apologies.”

 

“No worries, Spock.” As usual, the words were spoken with more gruffness than was felt, which Spock was incredibly aware of at the moment, with the bright thumbprint of McCoy’s mind lingering on his own. “But I need you to tell me what happened.” Now that he had Spock’s attention, the doctor went back to his tricorder.

 

Spock’s gaze fell back to Jim’s still form. “I do not know much. He had communicated that he would meet me on the bridge. On his way up, he was attacked, and he managed to contact Lieutenant Uhura. I arrived on the scene with a security detail and found him the way I brought him here, alongside an unconscious Andorian. Why he was attacked is still a mystery. I thought the question of why could wait until the captain was delivered here.”

 

“You thought right,” McCoy muttered. He sighed. “It’s a pretty serious wound. The blade punctured a lung, and  _ that _ part is lucky. A smidge lower and it would’ve been his heart.”

 

Another thing on a long list of things Spock couldn’t focus on right now. He nodded, but he barely felt the motion, and he squeezed his hands behind his back to ground himself again. “I trust he is safe in your hands, doctor,” Spock said.

 

“The day he isn’t is the day we’re  _ all _ doomed,” McCoy grumbled, lifting a hand to call a nurse over.

 

“Then I have a prisoner to interrogate,” he said with a nod.

 

“Spock, your father -- ”

 

Spock leveled his shoulders and cut McCoy short. “Please, doctor, one thing at a time. Inform me of any updates.”

 

Spock’s powerful hearing could pick up the curses and rather unsavory comparisons that McCoy muttered at the dismissal all the way out of sickbay, but as he’d just said -- one thing at a time.

 

****

 

It was later that evening that there was a request ping at her door. Uhura stood from her desk, grateful for a reason to stretch her legs; she’d been too absorbed in chasing phantom signals down rabbit holes to pay attention to any stiffness in her limbs. 

 

When she opened the door, she found Chekov on the other side of it. His young face lit up and he held up a data chit -- presented with a cheerful Russian greeting.

 

Uhura laughed and returned it, standing aside to allow him in. “Having a good evening?” she asked, accepting the chit.

 

Chekov shrugged. “It’d be even better if I could find our tail. Or even get a good look at it.”

 

Uhura snorted. “I know how you feel.” She turned the chit over in her fingers, sighing.

 

“It is not only the mission that worries you, is it?”

 

Uhura glanced up at him, surprised -- but then she smiled, a little ironically. It was Sulu who kept him from blurting out these things, she’d wager. “No,” she admitted.

 

Chekov nodded. “Mr Spock will be okay,” he said with the utmost confidence. Once more she was reminded of how much the young man looked up to Spock. Not exactly hero worship, but his faith in Spock was clearly unshakeable. “Ambassador Sarek is a Vulcan. They are very hardy, yes?”

 

“Yes,” Uhura replied. “But… he is very sick. Chapel is worried. The doctor is worried.” Chekov’s features fell a little, but she didn’t seem to notice it too much. “Besides, I’m worried about the captain, too. He’s not hurt too badly, just… badly enough.”

 

“We will get to the bottom of it, Uhura,” Chekov said earnestly. “We won’t let the captain down!” Now that --  _ that _ might be called hero worship.

 

Uhura couldn’t help but smile at this. “Of course,” she said. For the fact that he’d been attacked, of course, but even before that -- if the mission failed, it would come down hardest on Kirk. He’d blossomed into a great leader and a friend; no way she’d let that down if she could help it.

 

The determination in Chekov’s young face gave her confidence that the rest of the crew felt the same way. And then his expression shifted, a twinkle entering his eyes as he slipped back towards the door. “And then once it’s all over, the captain and Mr Spock can go back to worrying about each other, eh?”

 

Uhura nearly asked, but Chekov was gone too quickly. Now, what was that about?

 

****

 

This was leading Spock nowhere progressive. The Andorian they had in custody was giving nothing away. Were Spock not trying to conduct an interrogation, he might actually be impressed at the level of self-control their prisoner had.

 

He’d been here through the night and Spock knew just as much as he’d started with. So he called in the Andorian ambassador, Shras, for more information. Maybe something in their prisoner’s background would give some hints,  _ somewhere _ to start. Unfortunately, however, this conversation wasn’t looking any more promising.

 

“His name is Thelev,” Shras informed Spock. “He is a minor member of my staff. I know nothing of him except that he has served adequately.”

 

“He has been subjected to questioning under verifier scan and truth drug, yet he reveals nothing,” Spock said. “I suggest his mind has been so conditioned as part of a preconceived plan.”

 

Shras was much shorter than Spock, but he still managed to look down his nose at the Vulcan. “My people may be a violent race, but we have no quarrel with Captain Kirk.” In fact, he appeared indignant at the suggestion. Almost as indignant as he had been at being awoken by the klaxons and summoned “at such an hour.

 

If only Jim could see how his hospitality had affected the Andorians, Spock thought distantly.

 

Still. There were facts to get to.

 

“The blade that punctured the captain’s lung certainly shows that Thelev apparently  _ did _ have some quarrel.”

 

Shras sighed, his antennae flicking in obvious irritation. “You suggest a plot, but how would it benefit  _ us _ to harm the captain?”

 

Spock straightened, his mouth set in a firm line. “I do not know. There is no logic in it, just as there was no logic in Gav’s murder.”

 

“Logic,” Shras spat. “Maybe that is why  _ Vulcans _ commit murder, but perhaps you should consider other motives. Passion, or gain --  _ these _ are reasons for murder.” The Andorian drew himself up to his impressive height of Spock’s chest. “Are you quite finished? I would like to  _ sleep _ .”

 

“You may leave.”

 

Shras didn’t mutter as he went, like some physicians Spock knew, but he got the same impression of sheer  _ attitude _ . Honestly, Spock wasn’t concerned about preserving absolute diplomacy with murder and attempted murder on the  _ Enterprise _ , and more especially when the latter victim was the ship’s captain!

 

Spock loosely crossed his arms as he thought over all the facts, but they didn’t seem at all connected. All the oddities on this mission, starting with the phantom ship pacing their movements… None of this could be coincidence or isolated events, but picking out a pattern was proving difficult.

 

His thoughts were broken by the whistle of inter-ship communications. Spock turned and flicked on the screen over the watch desk in the brig. “Spock here.”

 

“Spock!” That was definitely McCoy’s voice, and while it was always gruff, there was an urgency in his tone that was unsettling. After a moment, the video feed cut in. The doctor was looking quite ragged -- had he stayed up through the whole night as well?  “I need you in sickbay,  _ now _ .”

 

Spock frowned. “Doctor, what has happened? Is the captain -- ”

 

McCoy waved a hand. “No, no, Jim’s fine. It’s Sarek. He’s gotten much worse -- I have to operate immediately. Whenever you’re prepared, we can begin, so -- ”

 

“No.”

 

The doctor seemed to come to a full stop in body and mind for a moment. “Excuse me?”

 

“I cannot participate in the surgery. My primary duty is to the ship and its passengers, which is also of the utmost importance to Starfleet. We are being followed by an unidentifiable, possibly hostile vessel, and there has been murder and attempted murder aboard. I cannot relinquish command under such circumstances.”

 

“You could turn command over to Scotty!” McCoy exclaimed.

 

“On what grounds?” Spock countered. “Command requirements do not recognize personal privileges.”

 

“On the grounds that  _ your father _ is on his deathbed unless we do something  _ now! _ ” The doctor was going red in the face, which was never a good sign.

 

“Perhaps you did not understand -- ”

 

McCoy let out a sound of pure frustration. “Dammit, I understand command protocols perfectly  _ fine _ , Mr Spock!” he snapped. “What I don’t understand is  _ you _ ! This operation was  _ your _ idea, it wasn’t something I recommended at all! But now that I’m prepared to do the damned thing,  _ you _ elect not to!”

 

“I am bound by duty, doctor, not personal discretion. Please continue performing your duties as admirably as always.”

 

“Spock -- ” Some of the anger faded from McCoy’s posture, but it was too late for anything more -- Spock ended the communication.

 

Suddenly, the brig was very quiet. Spock lingered a moment, trying to find that center again, to reign everything in under the cool surface. It was slipping, but he had to keep it together -- losing command for the same reason in two different crisis situations would be embarrassing, if he felt such an emotion.

 

And what would his father think of that?

 

This had gotten easier recently, but for the first time in the recent past, the only thoughts and memories he could focus on were those of his mother, and how her loss was a weight that stayed with him whether he gave it active thought or not.

 

No. He couldn’t.

 

There was work to do.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**[seven]**

Composing himself to an acceptable degree to perform duty on the bridge took more effort than it should have, but considering that it was possible, Spock didn’t consider himself at any loss. Since he could not get any useful information out of Thelev, his place was on the bridge. Reports of the phantom ship had been eerily quiet for some time; many considered this to be a relief -- that it had been an elaborate sensor ghost after all, or that they had stopped being followed.

That feeling, Spock thought, as with many that were an initial reaction to some information or another, was premature, and he wasn’t so sure that their shadower hadn’t simply started dropping out of sensor range at the intervals they had been detecting it.

By the uneasy looks that Chekov and Sulu sent him as he settled into the captain’s chair, they too were not so optimistic about the sudden absence of the sensor readings. All any of them could do now, however, was wait and watch. Normally, as Spock had proved in just the preceding days, he could channel his unfocused energy into work, to give himself an external focus, but…

He looked down at the chair he sat in. The Vulcan sense of smell wasn’t any more or less impressive than a human’s, for the most part, but Spock imagined Jim’s scent would cling to the arms of the chair. Perhaps there was a psychic imprint. That would not be so surprising, though it would again be beyond the range of his own senses; Vulcans needed to touch living skin for their own psionic abilities, typically. Thus far, the only exception to that had been the terrible death-screams of most of their race, trapped on their home planet as it was ripped apart.

Spock came to the realization, abstractly, that he was grasping the arms of the chair very tightly, and he let out a controlled exhale as he forced himself to let go. This just made it all the more clear that his mind was too tumultuous even for running more data work. Had he ever been in such a state? And his mother would be the one to go to over it.

The thought was another uncomfortable prickle at his mind. He had to stop this! He forced it away, barely, feeling as though he were grasping desperately for more of a depleted rope.

Still, his mind was far away as he gazed at the viewscreen, watching the stars slip past as he flexed his fingers to rid them of stiffness, and that point was evident when he failed to acknowledge Nyota Uhura’s arrival on the bridge.

At least, until she spoke.

“Spock!”

And yet he still moved as though in a trance, lifting his head slowly before turning to look at her. “Lieutenant,” he said. “Your duty shift has not yet begun.”

That was certainly not the greeting she expected  _ or _ wanted, considering the flash of her dark brown eyes, but she was exerting marvelous control over herself. For a human, anyway. Spock was almost jealous, in this state. But even Nyota’s composure could never mask her bright passion. “May I speak with you?”

Spock merely remained quiet, indicating that she should continue, but she blew out a sharp sigh. “I mean, may I speak with you  _ privately _ ?”

The bridge became even more still and quiet at this amend, but Spock got the sense that Nyota cared just as little as he about  _ that _ . To be honest, whatever it was, Spock doubted that it was going to improve his grasp on his own composure. However, from experience he also knew that if he declined, Uhura would still manage to get her point across  _ somehow _ , and it was simply better to approach it directly.

Sighing, Spock rose from the chair. “Very well,” he said. “Sulu -- ”

The helmsman practically jumped to attention, as though he hadn’t been distracted by whatever Chekov had been saying to him. “Yes, sir!”

Spock raised an eyebrow but said nothing more, just nodded before he followed Uhura to the turbolift. He thought she might take them to an observation deck, or even an unused conference room, but instead she froze and locked the lift and turned to face him. She hadn’t done anything like that in months, but that was far from his mind; Nyota had always been one to whom emotions seemed to cling around her body like a fog, but in this moment they seemed to flash bright and crackle through the close space like lightning.

“Nyota -- ”

“No,” she said, holding up a finger, and Spock fell silent. “Why are you refusing to turn command over to Scotty?”

Whatever conjectures or assumptions Spock might have made about what this particular confrontation would be, this was not it. “Pardon?”

“You heard me,” she snapped. “Any competent officer can command the  _ Enterprise _ , Spock, and we all know each other well enough to trust in that! Scotty can handle the  _ Enterprise _ for the few hours you need for the surgery! So could Sulu!”

Spock was still catching up, which was very unusual for him. But nothing about this day -- these  _ days _ \--  had been usual at all. “How did you -- ?”

“Know?” Nyota laughed, but from what Spock knew of her, it was most certainly not out of mirth. “Just because you haven’t shared this personal crisis with me doesn’t mean I can’t figure out what’s going on, Spock. Or have you forgotten both my station and my current assignment from the captain?”

Spock blinked at her, brows drawing together, and it was a moment before it all clicked into place -- “Oh.” Of course. She’d been monitoring and isolating communications signals in the ship very closely. She must have overheard his last transmission with Doctor McCoy.

Were any of them getting any sleep? He wondered.

“Yeah,  _ oh _ ,” she said, crossing her arms. “The only reason it took me so long to get up here is because I stopped by sickbay to fill in the rest of the blanks.” Spock had no doubt that McCoy had absolutely no qualms giving Nyota as much information as she could possibly want on the situation. “Spock, Sarek is  _ not _ well.”

“I am aware. However -- ”

“However?” she repeated. “Spock, he’s your  _ father! _ He’s the only family you’ve got left!”

Spock was quiet at that. The dark shroud that had been looming on him before threatened. He swallowed. “I am aware of that as well, Nyota.”

She sighed, her mouth still a hard line, but the flame of anger seemed to have died back for now. “I know. I’m sorry. But Spock -- ”

“But nothing,” Spock replied. “If you overheard that conversation, then you know all the reasons why I cannot relinquish command.”

“He’s dying.” In that whisper, Nyota’s voice could cut deeper than when she shouted.

“He understands my reasons. Were our situations reversed, he would do the same.”

Uhura let out a frustrated sigh. “Being good Vulcans is so much more important to the both of you than each other?”

Spock raised his chin a little. “Being Vulcan is the only other thing we have left.” Nyota looked like she had plenty of argument left in her, but her shoulders sagged as it became more apparent that Spock’s mind was made up and he would not be persuaded otherwise. Spock unlocked the turbolift and folded his hands behind his back. “You are still off duty, Lieutenant. You could return to your relaxation activities. Or have breakfast.”

Uhura smiled wanly at that but shook her head. “I think I’m getting close with this signal,” she said softly. “I want to run it through my equipment up here.”

Spock nodded. “Very well.”

And no sooner did they step onto the bridge again than the floor pitched beneath their feet, sending both of them staggering and grasping to each other for balance. “What the hell was that?” Uhura demanded.

“I have a theory,” Spock muttered. Louder, he called: “Red alert! Shields at maximum. Ready weapons.”

****

When the ship shook, Len let out a streak of curses that would have make a Klingon blush. The red alert klaxon blared through the ship, which was no surprise after  _ that _ and yet among all the cacophony, he saw Jim. Rather, he saw the damn fool trying to sit up. “Don’t you  _ dare! _ ” he barked.

Jim froze, but it was mostly in the pain that made him pinch his features and flop gracelessly back onto the cot. “What the hell is going on?”

“Like _ I _ know!” Len growled, stalking across the sickbay until he was at the captain’s side. “But you better stay there if you know what’s good for you.”

Jim gave him one of those smiles of downright  _ demonic _ sweetness. “Why should I worry myself over that when I’ve got you?”

“Ugh.” Len pulled a comm.-screen closer to them. “Just shut the hell up and let me call Spock.”

Jim laughed, but quickly stopped with another wince of pain.  _ Good _ , Len thought vindictively. It took a few moments, but they were finally connected with the bridge. “Spock!” There went the damned fool again, trying to sit up. Len pushed his shoulders flat to the bed again, his hands gentle if but firm. “What’s happening?”

Despite the chaos on both ends -- overlapping chatter, shouted orders, the flash of red lights -- Spock seemed quickly hooked on the fact that Jim was aware and speaking. Go figure.

“The ship, sir. Our tail -- it launched an attack on us. It appears to have been a fly-by. It’s hanging out of sensor range again,” Spock said. “But I thought it prudent to remain on red alert. Shields are at full, phaser banks and photon torpedoes warm and ready to go.”

“Right, sensible, yeah.” Len sighed at Jim’s struggling -- he might as well help the poor bastard sit up, because he clearly wasn’t going to sit still. “Any more clues as to who’s behind it?”

“We got more sensor readings when it came by for the pass,” Spock replied. “Lieutenant Sulu and Ensign Chekov are analysing them further, but initial indications are consistent with Orion vessels.”

“Orion?” Len repeated, sharing a puzzled look with Jim. “What could they possibly -- ?”

“There are many possible motives, doctor, but I believe -- ” They heard a voice in the background, and Spock paused. “Yes, Lieutenant? Did he find out… I see. Put him through.” Len shared another frown with Jim, but they were still attentive when they heard Scotty’s voice through the transmission.

“Aye, sir.” An acknowledgement of the open line.

“Mr Scott, did you talk to the other Andorian in Ambassador Shras’s attache?”

“Aye,” Scotty repeated. “They sure are a frosty bunch, aren’t they? Too important to waste _too_ _much_ time on an engineer!”

All of this was worth it, Len decided, just for the look of thin-lipped exasperation it gave Spock, if only for a moment. “And…?” the Vulcan prompted.

“Ah, yes -- he said he didn’t know the first thing about Thelev,” Scotty said. “That he had been expecting a different addition to Shras’s accompaniment, and Thelev was a last-minute change. ‘Could be anyone’ -- those were his words.”

There was a pause, and Len wished he could bottle the spark in the significant look that Jim and Spock were sharing, because it would probably power his entire sickbay for half a year. Had he really ever wondered what was between the two of them? Heavens above. “Thank you, Mr Scott,” Spock was saying, and cut that communication.

“‘Could be anyone’,” Jim repeated. “Meaning -- ”

“ -- he could simply not be an Andorian at all.”

It was almost more than Len could take, muttering to himself as he wondered when it would be appropriate to ask them if they’d like monogrammed towels. Not that  _ Spock _ would get the hint, but it was worth it to see the Vulcan wrestle down a special sort of irritation -- or rather,  _ not _ -irritation -- reserved just for the doctor.

“What was that, Bones?”

At that, Len glared a little more than he probably should have. “If you can get this Thelev down here, I could tell you in an instant if he’s Andorian or Orion,” he replied. That was most certainly  _ not _ what he’d been murmuring under his breath, but Jim didn’t need to know that. He was sure Jim knew that, anyway.

“Indeed,” Spock said, “I was about to suggest the same.”

The doctor wasn’t very impressed with that either, but it was Jim who spoke. “Yeah, of course, but let’s wait on that for a bit.”

“Sir?”

Well, at least Len wasn’t the only one, yet all Jim had to offer to their confusion was a shrug. “Just one of my irrational little feelings.”

Len rolled his eyes and sent a flat look at Spock on the screen. “Trust me, it’s not just Vulcans he’s a mystery to,” he muttered. “But you’ll have to ponder that on your own. Now that the fun is over, for the time being, I have a patient who needs to rest.”

Spock arched that infernal eyebrow, but he was agreeable enough to that, and ended the transmission with a farewell.

“Now  _ you _ ,” Len started in, turning on Jim. The captain was already carefully lowering himself onto the bed again.

“I know, I know. Bedrest.” Satisfied, Len gave a nod, and he was about to leave to make some other rounds when… “How is Sarek?”

Len’s expression turned grim. “Not good. If only I could operate…” He sighed. “Spock was refusing to relinquish command earlier over regulations, and now he couldn’t possibly…”

Jim frowned, closing his eyes as he let out a long sigh. “If only the other Spock were here… you could do the operation, no problems or conflict,” he murmured. Damned if he wasn’t practically asleep already! Stupid kid…

“Yeah,” Len murmured, lips pursed. “If only…”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted early due to the holiday. :) Gonna be real busy the next few days. Enjoy!

**[eight]**

 

The more information at his disposal, the more manageable Spock found any situation. He should be fleshing out his conjectures, but instead he was almost marveling at how seeing and speaking to the captain had calmed some of the earlier bedlam of his mind. Of course, Sarek was never far from his thoughts, but he was starting to (finally) get a handle on that as well.

 

It would be a relief, if he felt such a thing  -- or, more aptly, if he acknowledged it.

 

Spock steepled his fingers as he settled into his own mind a little more comfortably, the bright hot distress of the day cooling as it settled further beneath his skin. Closer to his own ropes. This was still upsetting, of course, but he could control it. Especially given the few quiet hours since the first attack.

 

From behind him, he heard a joyful exclamation, and he turned in time to see Uhura spinning her chair around to face him and tugging the earpiece out of her ear with a triumphant glimmer in her eyes. “I did it, I isolated the transmissions!” she declared. “They’re coming from the brig.”

 

Spock nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Yes, I might have expected as much.” He nodded again as he straightened in his chair. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Have you had much success in decrypting any of the messages?”

 

“No, sir, they’re even more clever at  _ that, _ ” Nyota replied. “But if they aren’t communicating with our stalker out there, I’ll eat my earpiece.”

 

Spock glanced over his shoulder at that. “Please do not.”

 

A few chuckles echoed around the bridge, but Nyota just smiled at him. “I’ll keep trying to decrypt. Chekov, I might need that helping hand you offered.”

 

“Aye!”

 

Spock inclined his head and turned back in the chair. “Your assumption, however, is almost certainly correct. But we still do not know what larger group is at play, here. Send a security detail to the brig, please. Our prisoner reveals nothing to interrogation, but perhaps a more thorough search will find the device he is using to communicate.” He paused, then added, “Tell them the possibility that Thelev is not truly an Andorian is high.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Uhura replied. As she relayed this order, however, a roar deafened the bridge as the ship shuddered under an attack. Chekov staggered on his way to Uhura’s station and steadied himself on the back of her chair. They were just barely solid on their feet again when the  _ Enterprise _ shook again. And again. “Spock, I’d say the prisoner is  _ most definitely _ communicating with that ship!”

 

“Indeed,” Spock murmured, grasping at the chair’s arms to hold himself steady. Chekov was whooping and cursing in Russian as he quickly bounded back to his seat. “Have that security detail bring Thelev directly to the bridge!”

 

“They’re on their way,” Uhura confirmed.

 

****

 

The shaking and rattling of the ship woke Jim right back up -- though to be honest, if it hadn’t, Bones’s colorful vocabulary would. Despite the pain and exhaustion, he once again labored to sit. “--Jim, could you  _ stop _ ! I already have one patient in critical condition, I don’t need another!”

 

“What? Critical?” At least this time, Jim managed to sit up on his own. “And I’m  _ fine _ .”

 

“I think  _ I _ will be the judge of that, thank you!” Bones shouted, this time practically in his ear as he strode closer to Jim’s cot, then staggered and held himself up on it under a third attack. “For the love of -- !”

 

Jim blinked, and a thought formed in his head. Yes, of course! “Yes, you will be!” he said gleefully.

 

Bones gave him a suspicious look. “I always am, but I get nervous when you’re so happy at agreeing to it,” he remarked. Jim smiled a little at that, but he began scooting to the edge of the bed. “Dammit, Jim! What do you think you’re doing? If you move around too much you could start bleeding again!”

 

“Listen, Bones, I’ve got an idea.”

 

“Because  _ that _ always bodes well,” his friend muttered. Jim ignored him.

 

“Sarek is deteriorating, isn’t he?”

 

Bones glowered at him. “Inevitably,” he finally said. “We’re gonna lose him if I can’t operate in the hour.”

 

“Then my idea is a win-win,” Jim said. “You get me up to the bridge, we’ll convince Spock that you cleared me for duty, and you get him back down here before he figures it out.”   
  
“Nobody’ll be winning if you bleed out!” Bones growled.

 

“Which won’t happen if you ever so lovingly deliver me up to the bridge and let me sit in that captain’s chair. I want to see what the hell is going on, you want to operate on Sarek, I want you to operate on Sarek -- there’s no downside to this!”

 

“That’s what you always say,” the doctor muttered. But he was thinking about it, Jim could tell. Then finally: “Alright, let me put a brace on the damn thing just for my own peace of mind and we’ll get you up there. Then later you can shoot me for being a goddamn idiot for ever listening to you about anything.”

 

Jim laughed, but he quickly stopped  _ that _ \-- it hurt too much. But it couldn’t feel so bad, he decided, with Bones on his side. Begrudging or not.

 

****

 

Saying that moving around was no problem had been easy when he was sitting in the comfort of sickbay; walking didn’t hurt as much as laughing, but it was surprisingly exhausting, and the reflection in the lift showed Jim how pale he was. But he was determined, and he knew he’d get no sympathy from Bones anyway. He just hoped he wouldn’t get  _ too _ much from Spock.

 

There was a lull between the attacks now, which made him nervous. What else was going on? How was the  _ Enterprise _ ? Jim was aching to hear the damage reports; it gave him something to focus on instead of the pain in his back. Surely it couldn’t be too bad -- no announcements had followed the red alert.

 

The lift doors opened on the bridge in its well-oiled controlled chaos in battle situations. Jim smiled. That was also a compliment to the  _ Enterprise _ and its crew, that they stood together and strong no matter what. This time, however, he didn’t get a “captain on the bridge!” -- it was more an almost surprised “ _ captain? _ ” from Spock.

 

Jim smiled, putting on a brave show of strutting up to the chair. “Thanks for keeping my seat warm, Spock,” he said.

 

Spock stood. “Sir -- ?”

 

“I’ll take over,” Jim said. “You go with Doctor McCoy -- you two have a surgery date, yeah?”

 

Spock frowned as he watched Jim closely. Jim tried not to flush, but it might actually be a good thing -- give his pale countenance some color. “Captain, are you quite alright?”

 

“Come _ on _ , Spock. I’ve certified him fit for duty. So let’s go.  _ Now _ ,” Bones added in a growl for good measure.

 

It took another minute, but Spock finally stood. Wonderful, because Jim was really needing to sit. As he switched places with Spock, their hands brushed. That it was entirely on accident didn’t stop the fireworks. Tingling sensation shot up his arm, making his heartbeat pick up and itching at the back of his mind.

 

Had that been Spock’s  _ mind? _ Just from an accidental touch? Holy hell.

 

Jim cleared his throat as he settled into the chair. His brave, I’m-totally-fine act was much easier now that he was seated. “Chekov, report.”

 

“The hostile ship is maintaining distance since the last attack, sir.”

 

Jim looked over his shoulder. “Any further transmissions?” he asked Uhura.

 

“None, sir.”

 

Jim gave Spock a look. “Well, go on,” he said, making a shooing motion. Bones was hovering close to the Vulcan, knowing better than to reach out and touch him, but he looked like he was  _ very _ close to doing something of that sort.

 

Spock gave him one last frown, but he clearly wasn’t going to stay and argue too long, given the option to do the surgery that would save his father’s life. “Since you insist,” he said, with a nod of his head.

 

“Of course I do,” Jim said. “Now get out.”

 

Bones rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath that clearly got Spock’s attention, but whatever it was, his first officer didn’t reveal. Not too long after, the turbolift doors shut on them both, and Jim relaxed a little more into the chair. Still, he was considering getting Scotty up here after all -- the pain was just incredible, despite the medication Bones had administered..

 

Just as he was about to ask Uhura to call Scotty to the bridge, though, Chekov shouted in alarm -- “Captain -- !”`

 

But the ship shuddered under another attack before Chekov could finish his warning. “Return fire as he passes!” Jim bellowed.

 

And he heard the familiar hum of the phasers, but -- “Missed, sir!”

 

“Chekov, take over Spock’s scanners. We need everything we can get.” The turbolift hissed open behind him and Jim twisted in his seat -- though he instantly regretted it, as pain burned up and down his back. It was a security escort, bringing the Andorian who had attacked him. One of Spock’s orders, apparently. But the most peculiar thing was the security lieutenant -- Joseph -- was holding one of the Andorian’s antennae.

 

Looked like one theory of theirs was proven right. This was no Andorian.

 

“The ship is coming for another pass, captain!” Chekov called, and this time they all braced before the  _ Enterprise  _ rocked again. “Phasers missed again, sir!”

 

“Report on his weaponry,” Jim ordered though his gaze never left Joseph and their fake Andorian friend, who was being brought closer to Jim’s side after the attack subsided.

 

“Sensors are reading standard phasers, sir,” Chekov said.

 

“Deflectors on.” He crossed one leg over the other, staring right at Thelev. “Standard phasers. Well, that’s comforting. They’re quick but they aren’t impossible.”

 

“Commander Spock ordered the prisoner searched and brought up here,” Joseph said. He held up the antenna prosthetic. “He had some kind of transceiver hidden in here.”

 

Jim hummed in thought, ignoring the incredible pain down his back, thinking of what he should do. What would Spock do? He had ordered the prisoner up here… “Sir -- ” It was Uhura this time, and her frustration bled through her taut, professional tone. “My lines are all jammed. The ambassadors are all on the intercoms, demanding to know what’s going on.”

 

Good god. Jim sighed. “Tell them to take a good guess, but keep that board clear.”

 

“Aye, sir.” And she sounded perhaps too pleased about that.

 

“Any reports from sickbay?” he said, almost too casually.

 

There was a pause, but eventually Uhura replied, “None. Ah -- Chapel says that Doctor McCoy…” He could almost see the frown on her features, despite his attention not directed that way. “Nevermind.”

 

Jim glanced over his shoulder at that. “Nevermind?”

 

“He wants to know if you’re quite through shaking the ship around while he’s trying to perform surgery.”

 

Jim grinned. “Was that the entirety of his message?”

 

Uhura gave him a thin-lipped look. “No, I believe his version was a little more colorful.”

 

“Captain -- !”

 

This time, the lights dim as the ship shook. Jim’s attention wheeled back to the present. “On my order, fire photon torpedoes two, four, and six. Widest possible scatter!”

 

“Aye, sir!”

 

Jim waited. Waited. It had become a pattern, now. Wait… wait… “Fire!”

 

There was a spout of Russian from Spock’s station that Jim was sure was also quite colorful. “Full spread missed, sir! It’s still moving too fast!”

 

Jim held tight to the arms of the chair as the ship trembled again under the next attack. He was feeling like getting pretty colorful himself!

 

“Number four shield buckled, sir!”

 

“Auxiliary power,” Jim supplied.

 

“Switching, sir, but it’s too weak for another attack. It’ll give altogether if it is hit again.”

 

Jim turned again to face Thelev, who had been surprising silent thus far. “Your friends are pretty good, I’ll give them that,” he said. “But they’ll have to destroy this ship to win.”

 

Thelev scowled. “That was the intention all along,  _ Captain _ ,” he spat.

 

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Clearly not Andorian.”

 

“Damage reports coming in, captain,” Uhura called. “All decks reporting. Sickbay lost power, but it’s back on.”

 

“Damage control procedures, all decks.” Jim was still focused in on Thelev. “That ship out there has phasers, so our weapons are alike.”

 

“Number two shield is gone, sir!”

 

Jim didn’t break gaze with the not-Andorian, his hands clenching into fists as he thought. What to do -- He flicked a comm.-switch on his chair. “Engineering, this is the captain. Cut power on port side except for the phaser banks. At my signal, cut starboard power. Kirk out.” Jim turned towards Thelev again. “Who are you?”

 

“Figure it out,” Thelev sneered. “You haven’t long to live, anyway.”

 

The captain frowned. What did he know? “You’re a spy, surgically altered to appear an Andorian and planted in the ambassador’s attache… to use terror and murder -- to disrupt our mission? Prepare us for this attack?”

 

“Speculation, captain.” Thelev almost  _ purred _  in satisfaction.

 

Jim narrowed his eyes. “Engineering,” he called. “Cut power on starboard side. Maintain until further orders. Chekov?”

 

Without even a need for any other instruction, Chekov left Spock’s station and returned to his own.

 

“What are you doing?” Thelev demanded, and to Jim’s immense pleasure, he wasn’t looking so smug anymore.

 

“Your turn. Speculate,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“We’re starting to drift, sir,” Chekov called. “Shall I hold her on course?”

 

“No,” Jim replied. “Just stand by your phasers.”

 

“Yes, sir -- standing by. But he is just hovering out there.”

 

Jim smiled. As he’d wanted. “Looking us over, Mr Chekov. We’re dead as far as he knows.”

 

Thelev snarled in outrage. “You’re baiting him! Luring him in!”

 

“Speculation.”

 

Jim didn’t have time to gloat, with as quickly as Chekov was reporting. “Here he comes! Dropping close to sublight speed!” The young man was plainly excitable.

 

“Hold your fire, ensign,” he ordered.

 

Chekov did so, but Jim could see from his slim shoulders that he was bursting with the tension. Anticipation. Jim wasn’t even that old, but watching Chekov made him feel younger! “Phasers locked, sir. Range closing. Now at… seventy-five thousand kilometers.”

 

Jim watched the screen. Glanced at Thelev. Thoroughly  _ savored _ the moment. And then: “Fire.”

 

The flare of light was immensely satisfying, and though they could hear no sound, Jim could imagine it. “Got him!” Chekov whooped. “They are disabled, captain!”

 

Jim sat up straighter in his chair, uncrossing his legs and arms. “Secure from general quarters,” he said. He heard Uhura repeating the command on all channels. “Stand down from red alert. Scotty, let’s get some lights on up here!” By way of reply, the  _ Enterprise _ lit back up, probably looking resurrected from the dead to their opponents adrift in front of them. Speaking of -- “Uhura, hail them, if they wish to surrender.”

 

The words had no sooner left his mouth than another blinding flash from the ship on-screen shone out, making Jim -- and a few others, no doubt -- shield their eyes against the unexpected flare.

 

“Captain -- ” It was Chekov. “They have detonated.”

 

Thelev’s voice beside him, sounding resolute but no less hateful: “They could not surrender, captain. They had orders to self-destruct.”

 

Jim frowned heavily, blinking rapidly to readjust to the normal light level. “That’s one way of saying no,” he remarked. Then he sighed. “Fine then. Uhura, contact Starfleet command. Tell them we have a prisoner -- ”

 

The fake Andorian laughed hoarsely, making Jim pause at the interruption. “Only temporarily.”

 

“Come again?”

 

“I had my own orders to self-destruct,” Thelev explained. “Slow poison. I’ll be in your custody perhaps another ten minutes.”

 

Jim lept to his feet, and oh he was already regretting  _ that _ , but adrenaline made it possible to ignore the pain for now. “Get him to sickbay!  _ Now! _ ” Joseph started to haul the prisoner around, but suddenly his eyes bulged as he seemed to choke on the very air he breathed in.

 

“I seem to have -- miscalculated,” Thelev gasped out. He collapsed in Joseph’s arms and the security officer jumped in alarm. He lifted a hand to Thelev’s neck and shook his head as he peered up at Jim.

 

“He’s dead, sir.”

 

Jim sighed as he leaned heavily on the captain’s chair. “Damn,” he muttered. And suddenly, he was aware of a warm trickle down his back, and he tried not to think of it because he knew what he’d hear of it from Bones later. “Get his body to sickbay, then. Have Doctor McCoy check him over, determine who or  _ what _ he really is.”

 

The doors of the turbolift opened on a blonde woman that Jim knew as a nurse -- “Ms Chapel,” he said, recalling her name finally. “Great. Good timing. Our prisoner has died but we need to get him to sickbay so the good doctor can do an autopsy, and -- ”

 

“And you are coming too,” Chapel said.

 

Jim blinked. “Sorry?”

 

“Doctor’s orders. He heard the stand-down, so he said that means you are to come back to sickbay.” She paused, and looked at his back with a sharp frown. “And even if not I would drag you there myself! You’re bleeding!”

 

Jim looked down. There was quite a stain forming on the gold uniform by now. “So I am,” he replied. “Well, let’s go on. Bones is going to  _ enjoy _ shouting at me about all of these things,” he added in a mutter.

 

Chapel just smiled as she took his arm and gently lead him to the turbolift.

 

****

 

“How are Spock and Sarek?”

 

It was the only thing Jim could say the whole way to sickbay, and despite her professionalism, he knew Chapel was getting tired of it. On some level, he knew that she couldn’t tell him more than that they were in recovery, but damn if he weren’t anxious.

 

When they arrived, he started to wander back, looking for his first officer. “Sir!” Chapel called after him. Jim blinked back at her, and she caught up to him, pulling him towards one of the beds. “You need to rest. Doctor’s orders.”

 

“Ms Chapel, I just need to -- ”

 

“I hope you aren’t back-talking my head nurse, Jim!” Jim sat back up quickly at the sound of his friend’s voice.

 

“Captain!” Chapel scolded, but Jim had been rewarded enough by the searing pain and Bones’ loud stream of curses.

 

“I swear, you can never make things easy, can you Jim?” He huffed as he pulled the captain’s shirt off and began undoing all the damage Jim had done to Bones’ work. Jim shivered, at the cold of the sickbay and the pain setting back in as the rush of the battle faded. “Gotta convince me to put  _ you _ in danger so I can do a vital operation, then you shake and rattle the ship around while I’m trying to do surgery! I had to sedate Spock several times because he kept wanting to get up and help!”

 

Jim snorted in laughter, then winced. That had been a bad idea, as ever. “I doubt he would’ve walked out in the middle of surgery, Bones.”

 

“Oh yeah? You didn’t see him!”

 

“Well, I  _ want _ to, that’s what I was trying to tell Nurse Chapel -- ”

 

Bones rolled his eyes. “And she did her duty by trying to sit your stupid ass down so you didn’t injure yourself any further,” he said. “Poor you!”

 

Jim sighed. “Please?”

 

Bones pursed his lips. “Oh, alright,” he said. “You and those goddamn puppy eyes…” Jim smiled as he continued on this way for a while, finishing his cleaning and tending to Jim’s wound and giving him a hypo to relieve the pain for a while.

 

When they slipped into the back room, Jim’s gaze first landed on Sarek. He looked mostly as Jim had last seen him, lying on the medical bed, hooked to a few machines -- but the color had returned to his skin, even if that color was green in hue. His rest appeared more like slumber than anything fitful or sickly. But it was to Spock’s side that Jim’s feet carried him, and though his first officer also appeared to slumber, his dark eyes peered up at Jim as he approached.

 

Jim smiled. He didn’t say much because not much needed saying, but he felt that almost electric tingle again when he rested his hand on the bedside, and Spock brushed his fingers down it. Bones was going on about something, Vulcan stamina helping during the operation, or something to that effect. But Jim’s world had narrowed down to this moment, that touch, Spock’s gaze -- and somehow, he knew it without it being said.

 

Spock felt the same. And the Vulcan below him didn’t smile, or even twitch an eyebrow, but Jim got the impression of a smile in his mind. Bones had gone quiet, maybe he’d even left -- Jim didn’t know.

 

And honestly, he didn’t care.   
  



	9. Chapter 9

**[nine]**

Almost a full twenty-four hours later, Spock was alert again, and feeling quite rejuvenated. He had time to sit up on his own, observe his father resting, and Jim as well on a nearby bunk, before he heard McCoy’s voice -- “Somehow I figured you’d be the first to wake up.”

Spock glanced over. “It is only logical, since I was the least injured or ill,” he replied. “Wasn’t the captain -- ”

“In another room?” The doctor rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but it was easier to just put him in here. Stupid jackass wouldn’t rest without wanting to see y’all every damn time his eyes opened.”

Outwardly, Spock just raised his eyebrows, but he was thinking again about the hot burst of heat and longing he’d been feeling in the captain’s touch. A reciprocation for what neither of them had managed to say. McCoy muttered under his breath, something Spock didn’t catch nor cared to, as he stepped back out of the little room.

But there was no time to ponder it. Not only had Chapel entered the room, carrying trays of plomeek soup to offer himself and Sarek, no doubt -- plus another bowl she sat near Kirk’s bunk -- but then his father and the captain began to rouse as well. Whether it was from the sounds of movement or the scents of the food, Spock couldn’t be sure, but the nurse lingered next to Jim’s bunk as though waiting for something -- and then it happened: as Jim became more aware, he very obviously made a move to sit up in a hurry. Chapel was there to gently press his shoulder into the bed.

This, too, seemed to register with the captain, and he relaxed again. Chapel smiled and took her hand away. “Sorry,” Jim murmured.

“It’s quite alright,” she replied. In a few moments, she had the captain propped up with the support of the mobile bed and a few pillows for good measure. “I brought more porridge. Doctor’s orders,” she added, at Jim’s slight pout.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he muttered.

“What was that?” McCoy barked, just out of sight.

“Just admiring your fantastic healing skills, doc,” he called back, winking up at Chapel. She smiled, but left to offer the same treatment to Sarek, who thanked her but said that he would manage on his own.

The moment that Jim’s gaze met his own was like an electric shock. Spock blinked, and quickly picked up his own tray. It would be rude to let the soup get cold, after all, but when he peered back over the lip of his bowl, he found Jim still watching him, smiling faintly as he blew on a hot spoonful of porridge.

Jim cleared his throat. “So… last best guess for our nemesis was… Orions, Mr Spock?”

Spock lifted his gaze, letting his spoon rest in the bowl. “Yes, sir,” he said. “They are one of the many groups that have been raiding the Coridan system. Logically, they would like the system to remain vulnerable so that they could continue their operations.”

“Interesting,” Sarek said.

“But what would they gain by attacking Starfleet?” McCoy again, reentering the room with a medical tricorder and a PADD.  

“Mutual suspicion and interplanetary war,” Spock said, remaining perfectly still as the doctor ran his scans.

“Ah, yes.” Kirk again. “A great diversion, with how carefully neutral they’ve remained.”

Spock nodded. “While everyone quarrelled and threatened, they would have… ‘made off’ with all of the dilithium in the system. What?” he added, seeing the look that the doctor and Jim had shared.

The captain grinned. “Nothing, Spock, it was just a very… human turn of phrase.”

Spock lifted an eyebrow, but chose not to remark. Sometimes he wondered if they forgot that his mother had been human.

“Well,” McCoy said, drawing attention. He put his tricorder away and scribbled a few notes on the PADD. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Mr Holmes, but the preliminary exam for the autopsy does not look like any Orion I’ve ever seen.”

Spock stared up at him. “Perhaps you should wait until you have thorough and concrete results before you attempt to -- ‘burst bubbles’.”

McCoy scowled as he moved on to do the scans on Sarek. “Well, excuse  _ me _ .” He snorted. “I thought you  _ might _ want a professional medical opinion on the body lying in  _ my _ morgue!”

“Bones -- ”

“Don’t  _ Bones _ me!” he growled over his shoulder at Kirk. The other human fell silent. The doctor finished his notations and marched to the door, muttering. Even with his excellent hearing, all Spock could pick up was  _ “--ing good pair the two of  _ you _ will make,” _ until he turned to face the room. “Now, you all are still in my domain and listen to  _ me _ . So rest. Don’t go getting excited, and if you need something  _ don’t _ get up -- ask the nurse on duty.” McCoy practically beamed when this was met with muted acceptance. “Good!” And he was out the door and to his office, at least according to where Spock could hear his footsteps going.

Spock glanced over at Jim at the same moment that the human sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if I should fear for the doctor’s own health,” he remarked.

Jim laughed. “Don’t let him hear you say that,” he said.

“Indeed,” Spock replied. It only seemed to amuse Jim further. He looked over at Sarek, as though his father could give him any answers, but Sarek simply arched a delicate brow. Honestly, Spock might find that ironic, considering he’d been married to a human for so long, but… well, as Sarek had told him once in all of their grief over Amanda: love is rarely logical.

He peered back at Jim. Was that truly what he was dealing with, here? Something that burned so golden-bright in his mind that he found it difficult to see? Spock seriously considered asking his father. And why not with Jim there? The same thing echoed in Jim’s mind -- Spock had felt it.

Spock opened his mouth, was attempting to form the words on his tongue, when -- strangely -- he felt as though the moment passed. Jim had begun eating his porridge again, and Spock simply tried to do the same with his soup, but his focus was broken by the approach of a very different set of footsteps.

From across the room, Jim laughed. “Damn, I always know if someone’s coming if I watch you two,” he remarked. But their visitor was someone that none of them expected. “Spock!” Jim called gleefully. And indeed it was his counterpart. The elder inclined his head.

“Hello, Jim. Father.” His gaze landed upon Spock and he found a twinkle in the other’s eye. “Spock.”

Spock nodded. “Spock,” he replied.

There was laughter across the room again, from Jim, and it broke the odd contact their eyes made. Spock always forgot how strong the effect was in person. But then, how often was one face to face with themselves? It was like looking into eternity -- though for his counterpart, he supposed, it was like looking back.

“Dr McCoy called me,” the elder said, in answer to the unspoken question in the room. “Back when the situation was more… dire, I believe. And as I’ve just proven, it was a ‘long shot’ that I could assist -- I’ve only just arrived, and well outside of the surgical requirement.”

“And yet you do not seem at all troubled,” Spock said.

The elder’s eyes glittered, in a way perhaps similar to how humans’ did when they smiled. “I had a… sense that it would work out.”

There was a moment’s silence before Jim laughed again. “You!” he said. “This happened in your past, didn’t it?” It would have sounded like an accusation, had he not been chuckling and grinning gleefully.

The elder Spock turned his not-smile on Jim. “Something very similar, at the least. But yes, Sarek required this surgery, with my assistance, in my own past.”

“But as you’ve also said many times, you cannot predict how events will turn out given how different our universes are,” Spock pointed out. “How could you have known that we  _ wouldn’t _ require your assistance in order to save Sarek’s life?”

The elder lifted an upswept brow, glancing at him, then back at the captain. “I have found that when some things rely on the unchanged heroism of one James T. Kirk, they certainly do work themselves out.”

Spock let out a soft sigh, sharing a glance with Sarek, who had elected to finish his soup rather than participate in these particular -- shenanigans, as Doctor McCoy might call it. They must have shared an expression because when they faced the room again, Jim dissolved into laughter again.

“Are you quite alright?” Spock demanded of the captain.

“Yes, yes -- just. It’s like a three-way mirror in here,” Jim managed to get out.

The three Vulcans looked at each other, which was apparently reason enough for Jim to laugh harder. Humans! Jim kept on this way until he winced and pressed himself lower into the pillows Chapel had provided him. The elder Spock rested a hand on his shoulder. “I do believe you should rest before the doctor comes back in here with a vengeance.”

And to that, at least, they could all agree.

****

Jim stared at the ceiling. He’d disregarded all reading material for now, as he couldn’t focus on it. Bones was busy, Spock had been discharged and was running the ship, Sarek was at the conference on Babel and Spock’s elder counterpart with him -- something else keeping his mind occupied with nervous thought. How was  _ that _ going? When the Vulcans had left, they seemed as fit as ever. Accursed accelerated Vulcan healing.

His own healing, despite how well Bones said it was going, felt like it took  _ forever _ . But that was, for the most part, because he was  _ bored _ . Uhura had visited, but only for the few moments she could spare.

Before he could take his pity party any further, Jim heard a gentle knock upon the door. Excited, Jim called out  _ “come in!” _ immediately, honestly not caring  _ who _ it was. But even better than just anyone -- it was Spock.

He felt his heart do an excited flutter. They hadn’t really spent a moment alone since -- well, honestly, since that horribly awkward conversation in the hallway. But not since they had felt the bright contact of each other’s minds. Jim wasn’t stupid -- he knew he was probably an open book to his first officer now; it wasn’t like he kept his feelings for Spock buried too deeply. And he’d felt something… answering, from Spock. Something that gave him hope, just like this visit did -- because if Spock were put off by any of it, he wouldn’t be visiting him privately this way.

Right?

Spock pulled a chair closer and sat next to the bed. With Spock and Sarek discharged, he’d been moved to a proper one. Only now did Jim notice that he’d brought a PADD with him, and he handed it to Jim. “A summary of progress on ship’s repairs, casualties, crew morale, and general ship’s functions and productivities,” Spock explained.

Jim smiled brightly at him. Just what he needed to quell part of his anxiety. “Thanks, Spock. I -- I know the crew functions smoothly even when I have to be absent, especially with you at the helm, but -- ”

“It is natural that you worry. I thought I could help… alleviate some of that.” Spock rested his hands on the bedside as he pursed his lips. “I would have come earlier, Jim, but I… had something to discuss with my father before he left for the conference.”

Jim shook his head. “No worries, Spock.” He held the PADD up and smiled again. “This… is what I’ve been needing.” Well, not  _ only _ that, but it was funny how he was now keeping that to himself, with how bold he’d been in the past.

Spock merely nodded, looking pensive, like he was on the edge of saying something but hesitating. Tentatively, Jim reached his hand toward Spock’s, watching closely for any sign to back off. There were none -- in fact, Spock reached out a hand, his index and middle fingers extended. Curious, Jim mimicked the motion, watching in something like wonder as Spock traced his fingers against Jim’s. And once more he felt that shock, like lightning jolting up his arm and tickling at the back of his mind.

Jim peered up at Spock, feeling almost breathless. He licked his lips. “Is that… why does it feel…?”

Spock shifted in his seat, slowly withdrawing the touch. “It… this is a Vulcan kiss.”

Jim’s eyes widened at that -- unexpected! -- but he soon grinned. “Really? So it  _ was _ your mind I was feeling?”

Spock nodded. “And I felt yours,” he said softly. “That and… my father -- gave me the confidence to see you like this.”

Jim gave him a surprised look. He’d talked to  _ Sarek _ about this? “So you’re saying…”

“What you’ve felt in my mind is an answer to what I’ve felt from you.”

“I…” Jim blinked. “I don’t know what to say -- I mean,” he added, before Spock could dwell on that, “It’s great! I’m -- I’m thrilled. I just never thought you’d say anything. Even if you did feel the same.” Hell, he didn’t know how Vulcans approached this kind of thing, and considering his breakup with Uhura…

Spock tilted his head, and he was quiet for a moment or two. “The last thing I want is to miss an opportunity,” he finally said. “If I’ve learned anything in the last two years, it is to take those opportunities. I do not wish to ponder what would have happened for as long as I live. I never…” But here he stopped, his gaze falling to his lap.

It was Jim’s turn to tilt his head curiously. “You never…?”

Spock looked back at him, and Jim could see something haunted in his dark eyes. “I never told my mother that I loved her,” he said softly.

Jim sat up a little, reaching for Spock again, his heart heavy. “Spock…” he said. “I’m sure she knew. And that she understood.”

But Spock shook his head, averting his gaze again, even though he held Jim’s hand in a tight grip. And Jim could feel it, the weight of Spock’s regret and anguish, like a heavy dark cloud that would not clear.  “And yet it is also important for humans to hear, is it not?” he murmured.

Jim sighed. “Sometimes,” he replied. What could he do? Well… “But in some cases, there’s something else.”

Spock lifted his head. “What?”

Jim smiled -- a Jim Kirk Special, of course. He reached up with his free hand, pulling Spock down by the back of his neck. Surely he’d read Jim’s intentions through their touch, considering how easy he bent to Jim’s tugging, but he still gasped softly when Jim kissed him. A  _ human _ kiss.

It lasted for several moments, sweet and tender, Jim hardly believing how  _ hot _ Spock’s skin was -- and he would’ve tugged Spock down for another kiss, perhaps one of an  _ entirely _ different nature, just to see what Spock would do… Except there was suddenly a quiet but definitely  _ shocked _ intake of breath and they both jumped as they gazed over at the door.

Framed in the doorway was a familiar, tall figure -- the elder Spock. He looked the most surprised by  _ anything _ that Jim had ever seen, and he abstractly thought that Spock wasn’t trying to remain neutral when he’d given no hints of a romance between himself and his own Kirk! If there had been, surely he wouldn’t look so shocked. And yet this all struck him as very funny, so he laughed, leaning back into the bed as he did so.

The Spocks, to their credit, composed themselves quickly, but it was a longer wait until Jim finally quieted. But he got the feeling that it wasn’t really minded. He cleared his throat and sat proper in his bed and smiled. “Well…”

The elder Spock had stepped inside to allow the door to close quietly behind him, and he faced the young pair with a delicate sweep of his robes. Composed, maybe, but still a little shaken, clearly. “Despite what you may think of that graceless entry, this is certainly not the most surprising thing I’ve ever seen. I only regret interrupting a private moment.” Something in Jim’s chest loosened, and he could somehow feel that his Spock was a little less tense as well. Despite what he might be feeling, he’d never known Spock -- either Spock, really -- to be anything less than sincere. “But, I have to say, this makes some of the calls I’ve received from both of you make a lot more sense.”

Jim grinned. “We always look to our elders for wisdom.” The look that both of them gave him at that had him in more laughter.

“May I remind you -- ”

“Please don’t,” Jim asked of his first officer. “There’s more than enough things you could remind me of that I would regret immensely.” Spock frowned down at him, but Jim just stretched and then grinned again, nudging the Vulcan teasingly. “So what, you only came down here to mack on me?” he teased.

Spock straightened and peered down at Jim with that unreadable glint in his dark eyes. “Captain, I believe I am owed a game of chess.” He said this with the air of someone collecting a serious debt.

Jim blinked. Then he chuckled and shook his head. “If Bones’ll ever let me out of this place…”

“Doctor McCoy said you could be released early tomorrow,” the elder Spock put in.

“That so?” Jim grinned. “Then bring it on, Mr Spock.”

****

Since that one visit to sickbay, Spock had felt a quiet peace of mind, almost. Meditations were as easy as they should have been, the  _ Enterprise _ ran smooth and efficient, and from what he could tell, the meetings on Coridan were going as well as could be desired. In fact, he might say part of him felt lighter, with the knowledge of his captain’s reciprocation, and the dual blessing from both his father and elder self --  _ if _ he were given to hyperbole.

The biggest shock had been his counterpart’s apology. He’d spoken to Spock privately, after that visit with Jim, and admitted that his logic had been flawed. “I failed to take into account how different everything in this universe already is,” he’d said. “I imposed my past… my memories… on you and this Jim Kirk when there are a myriad of ways for the crew to relate to one another. I also never experienced a romance with Lieutenant Uhura in my past; it is only a differing fact.”

Spock had tilted his head, considering. “And yet it is… understandable, to have a sense of how things  _ should _ be, when they are as intimate as your personal history,” he’d replied. “It’s even understandable that it might feel… wrong.”

And there’d been that twinkle in the elder’s eyes. “ _ Feel _ , Spock?” But they’d both known it was a rhetorical question. “And no -- not wrong. Never wrong. Different is different. It is illogical to impose a value judgement on something so complex as changing history.” Here he’d let out a short sigh. “I’m to meet our father when he arrives on board the ship. Do you wish to join me?”

Spock shook his head. “I have a few tasks I wish to complete.” He didn’t say why, but then his counterpart already knew.

So, as always, his duty was first. Spock was overlooking the progress on the repairs from the final confrontation with the enemy ship. They had been extensive, but despite the casualties there was no loss of life, and thanks to Mr Scott’s enthusiasm, repairs were nearly complete.

Despite having plenty to look after, Spock still caught himself frequently checking the time. As though it had passed more quickly, or as though his own internal clock was inaccurate. It wasn’t.

And apparently he wasn’t the only one who noticed. Spock felt Nyota close beside him, rather than see or hear, but he looked over his shoulder anyway. She smiled as she leaned on the top of the captain’s chair. “Time isn’t going any quicker by you checking it more often,” she replied.

Spock pressed his lips thin, letting the PADD in his hand rest against his knee. “I am aware,” he replied. “I am also coming to a realization about the pirates’ ship.”

“Oh?” she said, as though humoring him. Perhaps she was -- this statement, while true, had nothing to do with her approach or why he was checking the time.

Still.

“Yes,” he replied. “The ship was hard to identify because of its power utilization curve. But with the knowledge that it was on a suicide mission…”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod in understanding. “They didn’t have to worry about self-preservation. They just gave it everything.”

“Indeed.”

Nyota was quiet for a moment, continuing to study him. Then she leaned in, looking almost conspiratorial, and lowered her voice. “He feels the same way, doesn’t he?”

Spock blinked, staring at her in something like wonder. “I…” Not often was he left speechless, and fortunately Nyota was one of the few who could accomplish it. And she smiled like she knew it.

“Come on, Spock. I know you,” she said.

The line of his lips softened and he finally nodded. “Indeed, you do,” Spock replied. “Too well, I might say.”

She laughed again. “Don’t think of it as a bad thing,” she replied. “Now… how about you stop hounding the clock and go see him?”

Spock arched an eyebrow. “He is being released in just under an hour.”

“So walk him to his room,” Nyota replied. Which was enough on its own, but Spock felt that her wink was a little  _ too _ much. At least for the pointed tips of his ears, which he could feel burning with a blush that he tried very hard to push back.

He stood up, perhaps a little too quickly. “Yes, I -- I think I shall.”

And Spock left in such a hurry that he didn’t catch a triumphant look passed between Nyota, Sulu, and Chekov.

****

Honestly, Len didn’t think he’d ever had such a whiny patient as Jim Kirk in all of his life. And that wasn’t just from this experience alone. But Jim seemed under the impression that if he acted pathetic enough, Len would feel bad and bend to his whim.

...Maybe he’d been a little too  _ soft _ back at the Academy, but for the love of God, this was getting ridiculous! He’d spitefully extend Jim’s stay, if he didn’t already know that it would only be an invitation for several more migraines.

Instead, Len was going to discharge the pouty jackass -- and he ran into none other than Spock. “Here to see the captain out?” And before Spock could even reply: “Good.”

“Doctor, from the way you act, no one would suspect that the captain is your friend.”

Len made a face. “Is he telling folks we’re  _ friends _ now?”

Spock gave him a look that Len had long ago labeled as his “silly illogical humans” look, but followed him quietly into Jim’s room.

“ _ Finally _ ,” Jim said. “Thought you’d never -- Spock?”

Len snorted. “Oh, how quickly the spotlight discards me,” he said, going to Jim’s side to begin unhooking the monitoring devices. “Makes me feel like a -- ” He glanced over, saw the  _ look _ the pair shared, and snorted again.  _ Third wheel _ , he finished in his mind. Well, he’d seen it coming, though he hadn’t known it’d be so soon.

When he’d finished, Len stood up straight and found a bundle he’d had Chapel bring up. “Here. Clean uniform.”

Jim smiled up at him. “Thanks, Bones.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving a hand as he made a last notation on Jim’s file. “Just get outta here before you start holding hands.” He could sense Spock and Jim sharing a look at that, and then -- “Oh!” he said. “Meant to tell you the autopsy report on your fake Andorian.” Spock was looking at him expectantly, which made this even more great. “And he was  _ not _ an Orion. Actually, he was human.”

“Human?” Spock repeated. “Interesting…”

“But that makes even less sense, doesn’t it?” Jim said. “Humans…?”

“Not necessarily,” Spock replied. “There are plenty of pirating operations run by humans, as well. It would make sense if one was after the dilithium in the Coridan systems.”

Len nodded. “Plus it would throw the trail off more if they made it  _ look _ like Orions, or any other race,” he said. “Delicious xenophobia.”

“Huh…” Jim fell silent, looking thoughtful. And wasn’t  _ that _ a goddamn miracle?

“Whatever the case, it merits further investigation. Bands like this could cause great strife for the Federation.” Spock, trying to divert the focus. Oh, but Len wasn’t going to let them forget…

“That’s all well and good, but you’re forgetting something important.” When Spock and Jim just stared at him, Len puffed up his chest. “You, oh mighty Vulcan, were  _ wrong _ . And I proved it.” Apparently that was hilarious, because Jim dissolved into laughter. Though that could also be due to the look on Spock’s face, which Len had to admit was a pretty grand sight. That look of not-quite-squashed disapproval.

“Is that not rather childish, doctor?”

Len grinned. “Why would you say that? I’m just stating another set of  _ facts _ , Mr Spock.” Spock looked still more sour at that, which improved Len’s mood tenfold.

“Doctor -- ”

Unfortunately, Len never heard what Spock’s reply to that was, because Jim had felt it the appropriate time to sit up and slip his arms around Spock’s waist. “He’s gonna be like that all day,” he replied. “So why don’t you just take me home?”

Which was all well and good, but Len could’ve gone without  _ seeing _ it. “You are both gonna be the death of me.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and the epilogue posted at the same time because it's just a page long. :)

**[epilogue]**

Despite all of Jim’s protests that he was probably rusty at chess and not a good opponent, Spock found himself evading check several times. It made the game more interesting and enjoyable -- and it put a gleam of excitement in Jim’s countenance, which was honestly what Spock was focusing on, moreso than the game. He was still supposed to be resting, so it was light duty for the captain… and chess matches in his quarters.

“So, from what it sounded like, we might have a new admission into the Federation,” Jim said, breaking his concentration both ways.

Spock nodded. “According to my father, the vote was overwhelmingly positive. I believe only more small formalities are needed before the whole matter is closed.”

Jim chuckled. “No wonder Sarek and the other Spock elected to go back with us to New Vulcan.” He moved a bishop and -- “Ooh, careful Spock! Check!”

Spock diverted his attention immediately to the game, almost alarmed. How had he -- ? And while he struggled to remove his king from check and evade checkmate, Jim found something else to talk about: “Speaking of the other Spock…”

“Yes?” Spock had been trying  _ not _ to, considering that he was still not quite over his older self walking in on -- he could feel the tips of his ears burning, surely looking green if Jim were paying attention. For the moment it appeared not. He finally made his move, as he waited on Jim to continue.

“When we were saying goodbye -- he apologized.”

Spock’s brows drew together at that. “Apologized?”

Jim smiled. “Yeah. Said he’d talked to us both and given us both advice without realizing what our actual feelings were,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “He said he didn’t mean to give us any misleading advice, just that he assumed we craved that close friendship he and his own Captain Kirk shared… because apparently that  _ was _ all there had been between them.”

Spock nodded, remembering his own advice-seeking… and the conversation he’d had with his counterpart. “Yes, he had told me as such,” he finally said. “I -- asked him directly. He seemed to be under the impression that rumors were being spread about the two of us. That was, I suppose, something he dealt with in his time on the  _ Enterprise. _ ”

Jim chuckled. “I suppose,” he echoed. Then he made another move, one Spock would never have anticipated in any capacity, and -- “Checkmate.”

Spock  _ stared _ . He couldn’t believe it! Jim had appeared to be playing with the  _ worst _ strategy and yet…

“By the way,” Jim said, and Spock felt the flush creep down from just his ears’ points as his captain moved in closer. “I intend for there to be more than just such innocent things as  _ rumors _ .” Before Spock could answer, they were engaged in a human kiss, one far different from what they’d shared in that moment in sickbay. It was hungry, almost needy, sweeping across his skin in hot, prickly sensation. When he pulled back, Jim was grinning, and then he seemed surprised -- “You -- are you  _ blushing? _ You’re bright green!”

Spock did, indeed, feel the spread of that initial flush, but he didn’t appreciate all the attention to it. He looked at Jim in what he hoped was disapproval, though given his laugh, it might have been more of a pout. What a mess. And it didn’t help that Jim leaned in again, but this time the twined their fingers together, letting Spock feel the siren’s call of his bright mind. “It’s cute,” he said. “I like it.”  _ Almost as much as I like you _ . Spock could feel that thought, just under Jim’s skin.

And he could feel that it was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Here we are -- end of the line. I hope you all have enjoyed this story. Like I said at the beginning, I struggled through life for years to get it done; I almost gave up several times but I'm really glad I didn't. I finished the rough rough draft for NaNoWriMo _2014_... and even then it was late. @ thesewarmstars, I hope you've enjoyed this story, and I hope it was worth even a fraction of the wait. Thank you for your never-ending kindness and patience. 
> 
> @ my usual support crew (you know who you are <3), thank you for believing in me, cheerleading me, giving opinions when I asked, and just being awesome all around.
> 
> This is strange! I haven't finished a 'longfic' in probably a decade. All I can say is I hope to do more in the future. :) Thanks to everyone who showed their support with kudos, comments, and views.
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> -zig

**Author's Note:**

> don't forget to visit me on [@prowlish](https://twitter.com/prowlish) on twitter!! :)


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